A  LITTLB  BROWN  BEAR 
OF  THE  SIERRAS 


ALLEN 


**.  • 


rV        .^J$L 


UNIVERSITY  OF  N.C.  AT  CHAPEL  HILL 


00022094458 


UNIVERSITY  OF  N.C.  AT  CHAPEL  HILL 


00022094458 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

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Dapple  would  strike  at  her  with  her  forefeet. 

-Page  29 


FUZZY  WUZZ 

A  Little  Brown  Bear  of  the  Sierras 


ALLEN   CHAFFEE 

Author  of  "Unexplored,"  "Lost  River,"  "Twinkly 

Eyes,  the  Little  Black  Bear,"  "Trail 

and  Tree  Top,"  etc 


Illustrated  by 
PETER  DARU 


MILTON  RRADLEY  COMPANY 

SPRINGFIELD      -      -      -      MASSACHUSETTS 


Copyright,  1922 
By  MILTON  BRADLEY  COMPANY 

Springfield,  Massachusetts 

All  rights  rtservtd 


BradtgrCMtpBoobs 


PRINTED  IN  UNITED  STATES  OF  AMERICA 


To 
M.  M.  Soule 


INTRODUCTION 

A  LITTLE  brown  bear,  no  bigger  than 
a  house  eat,  that  the  Ranger  found 
near  drowning,  is  brought  up  with  the  or- 
phaned fawn  his  children  tamed,  a  rascally 
young  burro,  a  ring-tailed  cat,  an  owl,  a 
tame  canary,  and  a  valiant  yellow  pup. 

The  scene  is  laid  in  the  high  Sierras, 
where  trout-filled  streams  cascade  down 
fragrant  cedar  slopes. 

The  author  has  turned  natural  science 
into  story  form.  With  the  enterprising 
bear  cub,  we  meet  pine  squirrels  and  painted 
chipmunks,  the  pika  of  the  snow-clad  peaks 
and  the  rattler  of  the  sun-baked  low-lands, 
the  weasel  and  the  wapiti,  and  have  at  least 
a  glimpse  of  the  cougar  and  the  coyote. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I    Mother  Brown  Bear 1 

II  The  Cinnamon  Cub    ......  5 

III  The  Young  Screech  Owl     ...  8 

IV  "With  the  Eanger's  Children    .     .  12 
V    Fuzzy  Runs  Away 16 

VI    The  Coyotes 19 

VII  The  Spotted  Fawn     .....  22 

VIII    Wild  Playmates 27 

IX    The  Hunter 31 

X  Tiny  Folk  and  Their  Troubles      .  34 

XI    Chuck  and  Chipper 38 

XII  Mother  Chipmunk's  Adventure     .  43 

XIII  The  Home  Under  the  Rock  ...  46 

XIV  The  Cache  ., 51 

XV    The  Pine  Nuts 54 

XVI  Fuzzy-Wuzz  Plays  Fate  ....  58 

XVII    Bucky,  the  Burro 62 

XVIII  "As  Stubborn  as  a  Mule"   .     .     .  66 

XIX    The  Pinto  Pony 70 

XX  The  Pack-Horse  Trd?      ....  75 


Contents 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXI  When  the  World  Turned  White   .  79 

XXII  The  King-Tailed  Cat  .-.-..,.  83 

XXIII  The  Baby  Canary 87 

XXIV  "Jest  an  Ornery  Pup"  ....  92 
XXV  A  Regular  Dog 97 

XXVI  Chums    w    w    .    ;.    .......  101 

XXVII  Pretty  Paws,  the  Pine  Squirrel    .  105 

XXVIII  The  Rattlesnake  Den    ....  110 

XXIX  Mother  Brown  Bear  and  the  Bull  115 

XXX  Pika  of  the  Peaks    ......  121 

XXXI  Fuzzy  and  the  Weasel   ....  125 

XXXII  Wapiti   w    , 129 

XXXIII  Dapple  Disappears 133 

XXXIV  Dapple 's  Secret 136 

XXXV  Old  Friends     .    ,.,    ,.>,.>.  139 


FUZZY-WUZZ 

CHAPTER  I 

MOTHER  BROWN  BEAR 

THE  stars,  twinkling  like  diamonds  on  a 
black  velvet  sky,  looked  down  that 
night  on  a  tender  sight.  A  huge  brown  bear 
lay  in  the  mouth  of  her  cave  in  the  rocks 
above  the  falls,  nuzzling  her  babies  to  sleep. 

A  crafty  old  coyote  also  watched,  his  yel- 
low eyes  gleaming  murderously  at  the  tiny 
balls  of  fur.  Soon,  he  told  himself,  the 
mother  would  have  to  go  in  search  of  her 
own  supper,  leaving  the  cubs  asleep  in  the 
den.    He  licked  his  chops  at  the  thought. 

The  littlest  cub  looked  so  tender  and  help- 
less! His  cinnamon-brown  fur,  that 
matched  the  red-brown  soil  and  the  red- 
brown  trunks  of  the  pines,  was  still  as  fuzzy 
as  a  kitten's. 

But  it  just  happened  that  the  cubs  were 


2  Fuzzy i-Wuz% 

not  left  alone  that  night.  As  the  last  red 
flush  had  faded  from  the  peak  of  Red  Top, 
their  mother  had  had  an  unexpected  feast. 
A  Forest  Ranger,  with  his  camp  outfit  on  a 
burro,  had  stopped  at  the  foot  of  the  falls  to 
cook  a  string  of  trout  and  other  good  things, 
and  had  then  pushed  on  up  the  trail  to  the 
hot  springs,  where  he  had  work  to  do. 

The  mother  bear  had  scarcely  waited  till 
the  man  was  out  of  sight  before  she  had 
gobbled  up  the  fish  heads,  the  left-over  flap- 
jacks, the  bacon  rind,  everything,— while 
the  burro,  hobbled  with  a  rope  about  his 
heels,  had  snorted  in  alarm  and  browsed  as 
far  away  as  he  could  get. 

Now  she  could  stay  at  home,  at  least  till 
daybreak,— for  her  clever  nose  had  caught 
the  message  that  the  breeze  carried  her, 
from  that  sneaking  little  yellow  wild  dog, 
and  no  coyote  was  going  to  steal  a  march  on 
her!  Her  teeth  gleamed  in  a  snarl  as  she 
thought  of  the  danger  to  her  unweaned  cubs. 

Had  she  seen  more  of  men,  she  would  have 
thought  it  strange  that  the  Ranger  should 
leave  his  burro  and  pack  behind.  But  this 
was  in  the  high  Sierras,  a  steep  mountain- 


Mother  Brown  Bear  3 

side  where  few  men  passed,  and  she  had  seen 
little  of  the  strange  creatures  who  always 
walked  on  their  hind  legs  and  made  mys- 
terious fires. 

In  one  way  she  was  different  from  most 
bears.  She  had  three  cubs  instead  of  only 
two.  It  was  about  all  she  could  keep  track 
of.  Of  course  they  were  obedient  young- 
sters. Wild  babies  have  to  be,  if  they  are  to 
survive. 

When  their  mother  took  the  trail  to  the 
river,  they  followed  her  in  single  file,  the 
biggest  cub  first,  wee  Fuzzy-Wuzz  at  the  end 
of  the  procession.  If  she  heard  something 
she  did  not  understand,  and  rose  to  her  hind 
legs  to  listen,  the  three  little  bears  stood  up 
the  same  way,  pricking  their  ears  and  trying 
to  hear  what  she  heard.  If  she  sniffed  at  a 
strange  scent,  they  sniffed;  and  if  she  turned 
and  ran,  they  turned  and  scrambled  after 
her  as  fast  as  their  fat  legs  could  carry  them. 

As  it  happened,  the  Ranger  returned  to 
camp  before  the  yellow  moon  had  risen  from 
behind  the  lacework  of  the  pines,  and,  gath- 
ering an  armful  of  springy  fir  boughs,  made 
his  bed  by  the  river,  which  slapped  rhyth- 


4  Fuzzy-Wuzz 

micaUy  against  the  rocks  in  the  stealthy- 
quiet. 

It  was  just  as  he  was  watering  the  burro 
in  the  chill  of  sun-up  that  the  shaggy  one 
led  her  little  family  forth  on  an  exploring 
expedition.  Plodding  along  with  her  nose 
to  the  trail,  she  suddenly  heard  the  sound 
of  footsteps.  Instantly,  with  a  startled 
"Hoof  I"  she  rose  to  her  full  height.  In- 
stantly three  wee  mimics  rose  to  their  hind 
legs  behind  her,  breathing  each  his  startled 
little  "Hoof  V9 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  CINNAMON  CUB 

HAD  the  man  been  nearer,  mother  brown 
bear  would  have  fought  to  save  her 
cubs.  But  there  was  time  for  escape.  As 
quick  as  lightning  she  turned  and  went  rac- 
ing back  to  the  den,  her  cubs  following  at  her 
heels. 

This  region,  so  far  up  the  glacier-polished 
slopes,  was  so  smooth  that  a  burro  could 
hardly  walk  across  it  without  slipping.  As 
the  man  turned  to  stare  at  the  unaccustomed 
motion  in  the  landscape,  the  little  family 
was  just  disappearing  behind  the  bowlder 
that  camouflaged  the  entrance  to  the  den. 
All  but  Fuzzy-Wuzz !  That  fat,  furry  mite 
slipped  on  the  smooth  granite  slope,  his 
short  hind  legs  slid  out  from  under  him, 
and  before  he  could  get  his  balance,  he  was 
rolling  down,  down,  too  surprised  even  to 


6  Fuzzy-Wuzz 

call  for  help.  Indeed,  the  breath  was  all 
knocked  out  of  him  and  he  couldn't  have 
squealed  had  he  tried. 

The  river  rolled  at  the  foot  of  the  slope,  as 
green  as  the  woods  that  bordered  it,  save 
where  it  churned  in  white  foam  over  the  up- 
standing bowlders.  The  next  thing  Fuzzy 
knew,  splash !    He  was  in  deep  water ! 

He  struck  out  with  all  fours,  like  a  pup, 
trying  to  run  through  the  water.  Of  course 
he  swam,  as  all  young  animals  can  when  they 
have  to.  But  the  water  was  icy  from  the 
melting  snows  of  the  surrounding  peaks. 
Worse,.the  current  here  above  the  falls  was 
so  strong  that  soon  it  was  all  he  could  do  to 
keep  his  nose  above  water,  to  say  nothing 
of  paddling  back  to  the  bank. 

Had  he  let  out  a  frightened  whimper  now, 
his  mother,  with  the  two  remaining  cubs  to 
lead  safely  into  the  depths  of  the  cave, 
would  not  have  heard  him.  The  water 
whirled  the  wee  brown  mite  this  way  and 
that.  Choking  and  spluttering,  he  was  soon 
too  tired  to  paddle. 

At  that  climactic  moment,  something  solid 
went  floating  by  his  right  fore  paw,  and 


Clinging  to  the  raft  so  mysteriously  flung  to  him, 
Fuzzy- Wuzz  was  towed  to  shore. 


The  Cinnamon  Cub  7 

with  all  his  feeble  might  he  grabbed  for  it. 
It  was  a  branch  the  Ranger  had  thrown  in 
after  him,  and  the  branch  was  tied  to  a  rope. 

Clinging,  chilled  and  strangled,  to  the  raft 
so  mysteriously  flung  to  him,  Fuzzy- Wuzz 
was  towed  to  shore.  Had  the  little  bear  been 
caught  at  any  other  time,  he  would  have 
done  effective  work  with  his  needle-sharp 
little  teeth.  But  he  was  so  nearly  drowned 
that  he  could  make  no  protest  when  'the 
Ranger  rubbed  him  down  and  fitted  a  leash 
to  his  neck. 

A  pan  of  warm  canned  milk  and  water 
won  his  trust,  though  the  Ranger  had  to  dip 
his  unaccustomed  muzzle  into  the  fluid  be- 
fore he  saw  that  the  thing  to  do  was  to  plant 
both  fore  paws  firmly  in  the  pan  and  suck 
with  a  noise  like  a  little  pig. 

The  Ranger  made  him  a  bed  on  the  top 
of  the  pack  that  the  burro  carried,  and  tied 
him  so  that  he  couldn't  get  down,— and 
there  he  was  shortly  snoozing,  while  the 
June  sun  dried  his  fur,  and  the  trail  climbed 
higher  and  higher.  Life  had  taken  a  new 
turn  for  young  Fuzzy-Wuzz. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  YOUNG  SCEEEOH  OWL 

ALL  that  week  the  wee  brown  cub  rode 
on  the  pack  the  burro  carried. 

Every  few  hours  the  Ranger  stopped  to 
give  him  a  panful  of  warm  milk,  and  at 
night,  when  the  mountain  air  turned  chill, 
he  snuggled  the  little  bear  under  the 
blankets,  though  he  never  took  him  off  the 
leash. 

Finally  one  day  they  came  to  a  neat  log 
cabin  beside  a  singing  creek,  where  the  pines 
and  cedars  made  spots  of  shade  on  the  for- 
est floor.  The  next  thing  Fuzzy  knew,  he 
was  inside  the  cabin,  and  two  delighted  man 
cubs,  a  boy  and  a  girl,  were  dancing  around 
him.  This  was  so  alarming  that  he  crept 
inside  the  Ranger's  coat,  crying,  "Mu-uh! 
Mu-uh!"  in  a  frightened  whimper. 

The  man  cubs  were  told  to  keep  very,  very 


The  Young  Screech  Owl  9 

still  and  watch.  Then  Fuzzy  was  set  on  the 
floor  before  his  pan  of  milk,  and  after  a  few 
minutes,  when  nothing  seemed  to  hurt  him, 
he  drank  it  thirstily. 

After  that  he  went  on  an  exploring  expe- 
dition. He  looked  exactly  like  the  brown 
plush  Teddy  bear,  only  larger,  for  Fuzzy 
was  nearly  as  large  as  the  cat.  The  children 
watched  with  shining  eyes  as  he  poked  into 
every  corner  of  the  room,  now  climbing  half 
way  up  the  screen  door,  now  standing  on  his 
fat  hind  legs  under  a  chair,  with  his  fore 
paws  on  the  rungs. 

"Muh!  Muh!  M-m-mu-uh!,,  he  wailed 
every  now  and  again.  But  no  great  furry 
mother  came,  and  at  last  he  decided  there 
was  nothing  in  that  den  to  harm  him,  not 
even  the  children. 

Soon  what  fun  they  had!  The  children's 
mother  said  he  could  have  bread  in  his 
milk,  and  the  children  even  used  to  give  him 
bits  of  the  gingerbread  that  they  saved  in 
their  pockets.  It  didn't  take  long  for  the 
fuzzy  mite  to  learn  where  that  gingerbread 
came  from!  He  would  climb  all  over  them, 
sniffing,    sniffing,    sniffing,    till   he    found 


10  Fuzzy-Wuzz 

where  it  was  hidden,  then  claw  till  he  had 
found  the  way  into  the  pocket.  These  days, 
he  cared  more  for  eating  than  anything  else. 
R  Had  Fuzzy  been  the  only  pet  at  the  Rang- 
er's cabin,  all  might  have  gone  smoothly. 
But  he  had  one  rival  in  the  children's  af- 
fections,—and  life  was  not  to  be  all  peace 
and  play  for  the  newcomer. 

One  rainy  day  that  spring,  when  the  wind 
had  blown  a  limb  off  the  old  pine  by  the 
corral,  leaving  the  screech  owl's  nest  ex- 
posed to  gaze,  a  wee,  soft-feathered  fledg- 
ling had  fallen  to  the  ground  and  lay  there, 
nearly  lifeless  from  his  fall. 

The  Ranger's  son,  a  curly-pate  of  nine, 
had  found  this  downy  bird,  and  had  taken 
him  home  to  warm  and  feed  him.  Thus  the 
owl  had  become  a  member  of  the  family 
circle.  Clickety-Clack  they  named  him, 
from  his  habit  of  clicking  his  bill  when 
angry. 

Given  full  freedom  of  the  cabin,  he  gen- 
erally perched  by  day  just  over  the  chamber 
door,  on  a  pair  of  antlers  that  hung  there 
for  a  hat  rack. 

But  when  the  dusk  began  to  fall  Clickety- 


The  Young  Screech  Owl  11 

Clack  would  come  floating  down  to  the  man- 
tel shelf,  soundless  as  a  shadow  on  his  soft- 
feathered  gray  wings.  There  he  would 
claw  at  the  toys  and  bits  of  sewing,  the  pipe 
and  match  box,  everything  he  found  there. 
He  was  a  solemn-looking  bird,  with  his  great 
round  eyes,  but  he  liked  to  play,  for  all  that. 
His  great  delight  was  to  be  given  a  sheet  of 
paper  to  claw  into  bits. 

He  was  used  to  much  attention,  was 
Clickety-Clack,  riding  around  on  the  chil- 
dren's shoulders  and  receiving  the  dainties 
offered  him  with  a  clawed  foot  that  solemnly 
conveyed  the  morsel  to  his  mouth. 

For  a  time  Fuzzy-Wuzz  paid  little  atten- 
tion to  Clickety-Clack,  as  the  owl  generally 
slept  all  day  and  the  cub  all  night.  But  one 
evening  he  made  a  sad,  sad  mistake,  did 
the  little  bear.  As  the  owl  floated  down  to 
the  hearth  rug,  Fuzzy  made  a  playful  pounce 
for  him.  He  caught  the  owl  between  his 
fore  paws.  But  as  he  opened  his  jaws  to 
take  a  nip  at  the  feathered  back,  he  got  an 
awful  surprise. 


CHAPTER  IV 

WITH  THE  RANGER'S  CHILDREN 

FUZZY-WUZZ  made  a  big  mistake 
when  he  tried  to  grab  that  owl.  For 
no  sooner  had  he  got  a  taste  of  the  feathers 
than  Clickety-Clack  was  after  him  with 
beak  and  claws.  When  they  finally  called 
it  off,  the  hearth  rug  bore  a  souvenir  of 
both  fur  and  feathers. 

After  that  the  little  bear  made  many  a 
playful,  puppy-like  dash  at  his  fellow  pet, 
but  if  ever  he  came  too  near,  he  got  as  good 
as  he  gave.    It  was  tit  for  tat  between  them. 

True,  there  were  other  ways  in  which 
Fuzzy  managed  to  have  a  good  time.  For 
instance,  he  was  always  on  the  look-out  for 
a  romp  in  the  children's  bed,  if  he  was  the 
first  one  up  of  a  morning.  The  children's 
mother  objected,  until  the  Ranger  suggested 
a  tubbing  for  the  young  bear. 

12 


With  the  "Ranger's  Children  13 

This  surprising  thing,— a  tub  bath,— hap- 
pened when  Fuzzy- Wuzz  had  been  a  mem- 
ber of  the  Eanger's  family  for  about  a  week. 
No  sooner  did  he  find  himself  in  the  wash- 
tubful  of  warm,  soapy  water  than  he  struck 
out  vigorously  for  shore  and  scrambled 
over  the  edge  of  the  tub.  This  process  was 
repeated  till  the  Eanger  took  a  hand. 

In  the  end  Fuzzy- Wuzz  emerged  as  clean 
a  cub  as  any  one  could  wish,  but  he  stayed 
clean  just  until  he  was  put  on  his  leash  and 
allowed  to  have  a  run  outside.  The  Cali- 
fornia dry  season  had  begun,  with  its  dust, 
and  the  roly-poly  rascal  liked  nothing  bet- 
ter than  to  roll  on  his  back. 

The  great  trouble  with  the  Ranger's  back- 
yard, from  Fuzzy 's  point  of  view,  was  that 
there  were  no  trees  to  climb.  The  clothes 
pole  only  went  so  far,  and  it  had  no  bark  and 
was  dreadfully  hard  to  get  one's  claws 
into ;  but  Fuzzy  used  to  scramble  up  and 
down  that  clothes  pole  for  all  he  was  worth, 
pausing  each  time  at  the  top  to  sit  looking 
down  at  the  children. 

As  the  weeks  flew  by  and  the  little  bear 
grew  stronger,  he  longed  more  and  more 


14  Fuzzy-Wuzz 

for  the  freedom  to  climb  and  romp  and 
race  the  way  Mother  Nature  meant  him  to. 
It  got  to  be  mighty  tiresome  to  live  on  the 
end  of  a  chain  or  be  cooped  up  in  the  cabin. 
He  would  gaze  into  the  green  woods  behind 
the  house,  and  whimper  and  beg  to  be  let 
out,  but  it  seemed  as  if  no  one  under- 
stood. 

The  Ranger  was  afraid  if  he  let  the  cub  go 
some  big  animal  would  get  him.  There 
were  great  yellow  cougars  (California 
lions)  in  the  mountains,  and  perhaps  tim- 
ber wolves.  Besides,  even  a  wildcat  could 
have  made  way  with  such  a  tiny  cub,  and  no 
telling  but  that  even  a  pair  of  coyotes  (slink- 
ing yellow  wild  dogs  that  they  are)  might 
harm  him.  These  animals  were  all  afraid 
to  come  too  near  the  cabin,  for  they  were 
cowardly  where  human  beings  were  con- 
cerned. But  once  let  Fuzzy- Wuzz  spend  a 
night  in  the  woods  and  no  telling  if  he  would 
ever  see  the  morning. 

Sometimes  they  could  hear  the  coyotes' 
bark,  or  the  lion's  cry.  Then  Fuzzy 's  fur 
would  rise  along  his  spine,  and  he  would 


With  the  Ranger's  Children  15 

huddle  closer  to  the  children  on  the  hearth 
rug.  But  he  never  thought  of  that  when  the 
sun  shone  through  the  forest  and  he  longed 
for  freedom. 


CHAPTER  V 

FUZZY  KTOS  AWAY 

ONE  day  it  came,— the  chance  he  had 
been  longing  for! 

Fuzzy-Wuzz  was  now  a  four  months'  cub 
and  much,  larger,1  than  when  the  Ranger 
brought  him  home,— a  bear  as  big  as  a 
house  cat.  He  made  an  armful  for  the  chil- 
dren. And  where  at  first  he  had  been 
frightened  in  a  world  where  no  great  furry 
mother  came  to  his  whimper,  he  now  began 
to  feel  as  if  he  could  look  out  for  himself. 

One  day  the  kitchen  door  was  left  ajar. 
Fuzzy  had  longed  often  to  go  exploring  in 
those  green  woods  that  stretched  behind  the 
cabin  and  up  the  mountainside.  Now  he 
simply  ran,  and  ran,  and  ran,  deep  into  the 
woods,  climbing  to  the  tops  of  the  tallest 
trees  and  exploring  here  and  there  and 
everywhere.    Here  he  nibbled  at  the  green, 

16 


Fuzzy  Runs  Away  17 

growing  things  he  found  on  the  moist 
meadows  by  the  spring  holes,  and  there  he 
took  tiny  cat-naps,  all  curled  up  into  a 
warm  ball  of  brown  fur. 

Not  once,  all  that  glorious  afternoon,  did 
he  think  of  the  coyotes  and  timber  wolves, 
the  lions  and  the  lynxes  that  might  come 
out  of  their  dens  when  night  came,  and  hunt 
squirrels  and  rabbits,  and  perhaps  stray 
cubs  who  were  young  enough  to  make  ten- 
der eating. 

Towards  sundown  he  had  an  adventure. 
He  met  a  band  of  range  cattle,  and  when  the 
foremost  cow  saw  the  runaway  racing  about 
like  a  puppy,  she  took  him  for  a  dog  and 
made  for  him  with  her  horns.  It  was  only 
by  sheer  luck  that  he  escaped  her  lunge. 
For  in  his  surprise  he  simply  tumbled  over 
backwards.  Being  near  a  clump  of  seed- 
ling pines,  he  rolled  right  into  the  thick  of 
them,  and  the  old  cow's  horns  could  not 
reach  him. 

If  any  one  had  advised  him  what  to  do 
when  chased  by  a  cow,  he  could  not  have 
given  better  advice  than  to  get  in  the  midst 
of  a  clump  of  saplings. 


18  Fuzzy-Wuz% 

His  natural  fondness  for  climbing 
prompted  his  next  move,  and  again  he  did 
the  wisest  thing.  He  made  straight  for  the 
nearest  tree  and  scrambled  out  of  reach. 
After  that  the  cattle  wandered  on  and  left 
him  in  peace. 

But  now  the  yellow  sun  no  longer  gilded 
the  fir  trees,  and  the  woods  became  cool  and 
shadowy.  The  wind,  that  all  day  had  blown 
up  the  canyon  of  the  creek  bed,  now  turned 
the  other  way  and  blew  down  into  the  val- 
ley, chilled  from  the  snow-clad  mountain 
peaks.  Fuzzy  shivered  with  the  cold.  K 
horned  owl  solemnly  boomed  "whoo-whoo, 
whoo-whoo!" 

By  the  time  the  first  stars  peeped  from 
the  blackening  sky,  he  began  to  shiver  from 
fright  as  well.  For  down  the  canyon  came 
the  long-drawn  cry  of  the  great,  tawny, 
man-size  cat  that  Californians  call  the* 
mountain  lion. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  COYOTES 

YES,  sir!  Fuzzy  was  a  mighty  fright- 
ened bear  cub  as  the  cougar's  cry 
chilled  the  night.  He  waited  in  his  tree-top 
with  straining  ears.  The  cry  had  ceased,  but 
he  dare  not  climb  down,  for  what  might  not 
lurk  in  the  rustling  darkness? 

Colder  and  colder  grew  his  airy  perch. 
Fuzzy  curled  up  tight  in  the  crotch  of  the 
limb.  The  lion  was  away  off  on  the  moun- 
tainside, and  after  awhile,  when  nothing 
happened,  the  little  bear  fell  asleep. 

His  dreams  were  broken  by  a  weird,  wail- 
ing, high-pitched  howl.  He  sprang  awake 
in  the  instant.  Peering  through  the  gray 
darkness  of  the  starry  night,  he  tried  to  see 
what  was  causing  that  sound. 

On  a  rock  ridge  half-way  down  the  slope 
stood  two  animals  that  any  one  might  have 

19 


20  Fuzzy-Wuzz 

taken  for  yellow  dogs,  or  perhaps  for  small- 
sized  wolves.  As  an  actual  fact,  they  were 
cousins  to  both  dog  and  wolf.  They  were 
coyotes,  in  search  of  their  supper,— and 
Fuzzy- Wuzz  had  not  forgotten  the  old 
coyote  that  used  to  howl  below  his  mother's 
den. 

These  coyotes,  as  it  happened,  had  a  fam- 
ily of  fourteen  little  ones  hidden  in  a  cave 
on  the  hillside.  That  meant  that  they  had 
to  bring  home  a  great  many  mice  and  rab- 
bits for  their  family,  which  was  still  too 
young  to  go  hunting  with  them. 

Had  the  Eanger  known  about  them,  he 
would  have  made  an  end  to  them ;  for  many 
a  time  they  had  robbed  his  chicken  house, 
or  harried  a  new-born  colt,  for  their  meat 
was  anything  too  young  and  helpless  to  es- 
cape their  jaws. 

Even  had  Mother  Brown  Bear  not  taught 
her  cubs  to  keep  still  and  hide  when  the 
coyote  cried,  Fuzzy  would  have  been  afraid, 
with  that  weird  cry  in  his  ears.  As  it  was, 
he  shivered  into  a  still  tighter  ball  of  fur 
and  wished  he  were  back  in  the  Ranger's 
cabin. 


The  Coyotes  21 

The  coyotes  must  have  got  his  scent  with 
their  wonderful  doggy  noses,  as  the  wind 
blew  down  over  his  tree-top  to  them,  for 
they  came  circling  nearer,  and  stood  howl- 
ing right  up  at  his  hiding  place.  But  none 
of  the  dog  family  can  climb,  and  the  cub 
was  safe. 

After  awhile  they  saw  a  rabbit  and  went 
loping  after  it  with  all  the  speed  of  their 
slender  feet.  Again  Fuzzy  fell  asleep,  and 
when  he  awoke,  it  was  a  bar  of  silver  sun- 
light shining  in  his  eyes  that  woke  him. 

The  woods  now  looked  as  green  and  peace- 
ful as  they  had  the  afternoon  before,  and  it 
did  not  seem  possible  that  he  could  have  been 
so  frightened  in  the  night.  But  he  was 
hungry. 


CHAPTER  YII 

THE  SPOTTED  FAWN 

BACKING  down  the  tree  trunk,  the 
runaway  began  looking  about  him  for 
something  to  eat.  It  was  the  little  bear's 
first  experience  at  fending  for  himself. 
Had  he  not  been  taken  from  his  mother,  he 
would  have  learned  from  her  how  to  find 
the  fat  white  grubs  that  hide  under  a  fallen 
tree  trunk.  He  might  have  learned  how  to 
dig  out  a  hiding  wood  mouse,  or  where  to 
look  for  roots  and  berries. 

As  it  was,  he  sampled  a  mouthful  of  bark, 
but  it  was  no  good.  He  sniffed  this  way 
and  that  through  the  pine  woods,  wriggling 
his  nose  in  the  effort  to  find  a  breakfast. 
And  he  thought  of  the  pan  of  warm  milk 
that  always  awaited  him  after  the  morn- 
ing's milking. 

The  children  were  just  sitting  down  to 


The  Spotted  Fawn  23 

their  breakfast  of  oatmeal  when  a  whine  and 
a  scratching  of  claws  sounded  faintly 
through  the  kitchen  door.  Now  they  had 
cried  themselves  to  sleep  the  night  before, 
thinking  their  pet  was  gone. 

"It's  Fuzzy- Wuzz!"j  they  shouted,  tum- 
bling over  one  another  to  let  him  in.  My! 
What  a  hugging  he  got!  He  wriggled  and 
squirmed  to  get  away.  Then  the  Ranger 
brought  in  the  foaming  milk  pails,  and  the 
prodigal  was  soon  planting  both  fat  fore 
paws  in  his  feed  pan. 

After  that  they  never  put  him  on  a  leash, 
and  Fuzzy  never  stayed  away  after  dark,— 
at  least  not  while  he  was  such  a  tiny  cub. 

One  morning  the  Ranger  found  that  a 
mountain  lion  had  been  down  to  the  corral. 
From  the  footprints  he  judged  that  the  cows 
had  driven  the  great  cat  away  with  their 
horns.  But  there  was  soon  to  be  a  new  calf, 
and  he  decided  to  spend  that  day  in  hunting 
the  lion. 

The  California  mountain  lion  is  a  great, 
tawny  beast  as  long  as  a  man  is  tall,  and  it 
is  fortunate  that  he  is  such  a  coward  that 
he  runs  when  he  sees  a  human  being.    For 


24  Fuzzy-Wuzz 

he  can  fell  a  deer  at  one  stroke  of  his  great 
barbed  paw. 

But  he  kills  sheep  and  calves  every  chance 
he  gets,  and  Uncle  Sam  asks  his  Forest 
Rangers  to  kill  every  lion  they  find. 

The  Ranger  took  his  gun  and  started  fol- 
lowing the  footprints  the  giant  cat  had  left 
in  the  dust  of  the  trail  as  it  led  up  the  moun- 
tain side.  Soon  the  animal  had  leapt  aside 
where  only  a  scratch  of  its  claws  on  a 
rock  here  and  there  told  the  tale. 

By  and  by  the  slim,  pointed  hoof  prints 
of  a  doe  crossed  the  trail.  The  Ranger  hur- 
ried even  faster  now,  for  he  did  not  want 
another  deer  killed. 

A  gentle-eyed  young  doe  had  sought  hid- 
ing that  morning  in  a  leafy  clump  of  deer 
brush,— for  in  the  evergreen  forests  of  the 
Sierras  there  is  little  of  the  thick  under- 
growth that  one  finds  among  the  oaks  and 
elms  and  maples  of  the  Eastern  woodlands. 

This  doe  had  a  reason  for  selecting  a 
good  hiding-place,  for  that  very  morning 
twin  fawns  were  born  to  her,  and  she  had 
known  they  must  be  hidden  away  where 


The  Spotted  Fawn  25 

neither  lions  nor  coyotes  could  find  the  help- 
less things. 

The  fawns  had  dappled  coats,  with  milk- 
white  spots  on  their  soft,  rusty-colored  fur ; 
and  the  doe  found  a  place  where  the  sunlight 
danced  in  patches  on  the  rusty-colored 
earth,  and  the  fawns  would  not  have  been 
noticed  had  one  looked  at  the  very  spot,— 
unless  they  moved. 

Such  innocent,  soft-eyed  babies  as  they 
were,  these  firstlings  of  the  rust-red  doe! 
Like  their  mother,  they  had  long  ears  and 
white  tails  with  black  tips.  Their  long, 
slender  legs  were  at  first  too  fragile  for  them 
to  stand,  and  they  lay  on  the  soft  moss  as 
she  licked  their  fur,  with  her  wild  mother 
love  in  her  great  eyes. 

OfO  on  the  mountain  peak  their  father,  a 
great,  handsome  buck  with  branching  ant- 
lers, was  in  retreat,  with  half-a-dozen  other 
deer,  while  their  horns  were  in  velvet,  for 
this  velvety  fur  that  covers  the  new  growth 
of  horn  is  tender,  and  the  deer  brush  of  the 
lower  slopes  would  hurt  it. 

But  alas  for  the  wild  mother,  who  would 


26  Fuzzy-Wuzz 

willingly  die  fighting  for  her  little  ones!  At 
the  very  moment  that  she  lay  nuzzling  them 
so  happily,  the  giant  cat  was  crouched  along 
the  limb  of  a  fir  tree  watching,  with  yel- 
low eyes  blinking  hungrily.  The  way  the 
wind  blew,  no  taint  of  the  lion  reached  her 
nostrils,  and  she  had  no  warning. 

The  mountain  lion  had  been  unsuccessful 
in  his  last  night's  hunt;  he  had  wandered 
miles  in  search  of  prey.  Suddenly  gather- 
ing all  fours  beneath  him,  he  had  made  one 
powerful  leap  at  the  doe.  At  this  mo- 
ment the  Ranger,  hurrying  along  his  trail, 
sighted  the  tawny  form  and  sent  a  bullet 
through  its  heart. 

But  so  powerful  had  been  the  great  cat's 
leap  that  it  did  not  stop  even  then,  but  still 
clutching  the  doe,  it  went  sliding  and  roll- 
ing down  the  hillside  till  it  crashed  over  a 
ledge,— and  one  of  the  fawns  with  them. 

It  was  too  late  to  save  the  others,  but  the 
Ranger  took  the  remaining  fawn  in  his 
arms  and  carried  it  home  to  his  children. 
Thus  Dapple,  the  fawn,  became  a  fellow 
member  of  Fuzzy 's  household. 


The  giant  cat  was  crouched  along  the  limb  of  a  fir  tree. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

WILD  PLAYMATES 

HAD  the  bear  cub  and  the  fawn  been 
older,  they  would  never  have  been 
friends ;  but  these  were  both  such  babies 
that  the  little  bear  much  preferred  his  milk 
to  venison,  and  the  fawn  did  not  know  to  be 
afraid. 

Their  strange  friendship  might  not  last, 
as  they  grew  older,  but  for  the  time  there 
was  peace  between  them. 

The  fawn  had  to  be  brought  up  on  a  bot- 
tle, and  the  children  loved  it  first  for  its 
very  helplessness. 

As  Dapple  grew  stronger,  her  long,  slim 
legs  developed  the  most  amazing  ability  to 
jump.  She  followed  the  children  around 
like  a  pup,  for  they  were  the  only  parents 
she  knew.    And  if  they  became  separated, 

27, 


28  Fuzzy-Wuzz 

she  would  go  leaping  after  them  with  great, 
graceful  leaps  that  carried  her  straight  over 
the  bushes. 

*  They  used  to  like  to  run  and  hide  from 
her,  just  for  the  fun  of  seeing  her  come 
bounding  after  them.  She  could  overtake 
them  in  a  foot  race,  too.  She  enjoyed  a 
game  of  tag  as  much  as  they  did,  and  every- 
where the  children  went,  the  fawn  would 
follow  after. 

But  though  Fuzzy-Wuzz  understood  that 
Dapple  was  under  the  children's  protection, 
the  young  rascal  loved  to  chase  her.  He 
never  had  the  slightest  chance  of  overtak- 
ing her,  for  his  short,  fat  legs  and  round, 
flat  feet  were  not  built  for  speed.  But  some- 
times he  got  her  cornered  and  woofed  at 
her,  as  a  puppy  would  a  calf. 

At  such  times  she  learned  to  take  refuge 
in  the  corral.  Leaping  lightly  over  the 
three-log  fence,  she  would  trip  her  way  into 
the  midst  of  the  cattle,  who  would  lower 
their  horns  the  instant  the  little  bear  came 
near. 

No  matter  if  Dapple  were  lying  down 
when  Fuzzy-Wuzz  grew  mischievous^  she 


Wild  Playmates  29 

took  her  afternoon  nap  with  all  four  feet 
under  her,  and  when  she  made  up  her  mind 
to  go,  she  rose  like  a  Jack-in-the-box,  and 
away  she  leapt  with  a  whistle,  like  a  bit  of 
thistle-down. 

After  a  time  Dapple  found  still  another 
way  to  defend  herself,  when  Fuzzy- Wuzz 
grew  mischievous.  Her  slender  hoofs  were 
sharp  as  knives,  and  she  would  rear  up  on 
her  hind  legs  and  strike  at  him  with  her 
fore  feet.    He  kept  his  distance. 

Sometimes  a  deer  will  fight  a  snake  that 
way. 

Now  Dapple  learned  to  follow  the  chil- 
dren everywhere  they  went.  Through  the 
corral  and  into  the  woods,  and  even  up  the 
porch  steps,  would  she  trip  after  them. 
Once  she  even  came  into  the  cabin,  and  she 
would  have  every  time,  had  the  Ranger's 
wife  permitted. 

She  was  like  Mary's  little  lamb.  But 
there  were  no  schools  in  this  wilderness. 
The  children's  mother  taught  them  to  read 
and  figure,  and  their  father  told  them  about 
the  trees  and  flowers  and  birds,  the  rocks 
and  clouds,  and  read  them  books  about  the 


30  Fuzzy -Wuzz 

great  world  outside  their  Sierras.  That 
way,  lessons  were  mostly  play.  Their  play- 
mates were  the  two  wild  children,  Dapple 
and  Fuzzy- Wuzz. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  HUNTER 

ONE  morning  a  party  of  huntsmen 
stopped  at  the  Ranger's  cabin.  It 
was  open  season  for  deer,  and  they  meant 
to  make  the  most  of  those  few  weeks  by 
shooting  what  the  law  allowed  them. 

Fuzzy-Wuzz  had  to  wear  a  red  bow  on 
his  neck  these  days,  so  that  the  huntsmen 
would  not  mistake  him  for  a  wild  bear. 
For  it  was  open  season  all  the  year  around 
for  bears,  and  a  hunter  loves  nothing  bet- 
ter than  to  kill  a  cub  and  have  bear  steak 
for  breakfast.  But  Dapple  wore  no  collar, 
as  it  was  against  the  law  to  kill  fawns  at 
any  time  of  the  year. 

The  children  had  been  playing  tag  with 

Dapple  in  the  woods  when  they  fell  asleep 

in  the  sunshine  of  an  open  hillside.    Dap- 
si 


32  Fuzzy-Wuzz 

pie,  too,  took  a  nap  nearby,  but  instead  of 
lying  right  out  in  the  open,  as  they  did,  her 
instinct  told  her  it  was  safer  under  the 
dappled  shade  of  a  clump  of  bushes. 

One  of  the  huntsmen,  peering  over  the 
brow  of  the  hill,  saw  a  little  movement  in 
Dapple 's  clump  of  bushes,  as  Dapple  awoke 
and  began  cropping  the  leaves.  Thinking 
it  was  a  porcupine  that  had  set  the  bushes 
swaying  (and  not  being  sportsman  enough 
to  make  sure),  he  fired. 

Dapple  gave  a  scream  of  pain,  and  went 
bounding  away  on  three  legs.  The  chil- 
dren, thus  awakened,  stared  after  her,  then 
started  to  follow  her  dainty  hoof  prints. 
Soon  they  noticed  drops  of  blood  on  the 
stones. 

At  the  same  time  the  huntsman,  seeing 
the  children,  came  on  the  run.  "Oh,  I 
say!"  he  called,  "I  hope  I  didn't  hurt  any 
one?" 

"You've  killed  Dapple,"  sobbed  the  lit- 
tle girl. 

"You've  shot  Dapple!"  shouted  the  boy. 
And  to  his  sister,  "I'd  like  to  shoot  HIM 
in  the  leg,  and  see  how  HE  likes  it!"- 


The  Hunter  33 

"Who's  ' Dapple"?"  gasped  the  hunts- 
man, alarmed. 

" She's  our  tame  fawnP  yelled  the  boy 
angrily. 

"I'm  so  sorry,"  apologized  the  hunts- 
man.   "I  thought  it  was  a  porcupine." 

"Oh,  then  you  didn't  mean  to  do  it,"  for- 
gave the  little  girl. 

It  was  decided  that  the  huntsman  had 
better  not  go  with  the  children  lest  he 
frighten  the  fawn  still  further  away. 

"Dapple!  Come,  Dapple!"  they  called 
gently,  as  they  traced  the  staggering  foot- 
prints. They  came  upon  the  little  creature 
lying  on  her  side.  Tenderly  the  boy  car- 
ried her  home  in  his  arms,  and  the  Eanger 
removed  the  bullet  and  bound  the  wound  up 
properly. 

Such  an  appealing  invalid  as  Dapple 
made,  with  her  great,  reproachful  eyes, 
that  Fuzzy  felt  himself  neglected.  The 
day  came,  though,  when  the  wounded  leg 
was  well.  That  day  Dapple  was  allowed  to 
follow  them  into  the  cabin,  and  even  Fuzzy- 
Wuzz  gave  her  a  lick  with  his  warm,  moist 
tongue. 


CHAPTER  X 

TINY  FOLK  AND  THEIR  TROUBLES 

ONE  thing  that  always  interested  the 
little  bear  was  the  robin  who  used  to 
bring  her  fat  fledglings,  nearly  as  big  as 
herself,  to  the  Sanger's  lawn. 

She  had  made  her  big  clay  nest  on  a  beam 
of  the  porch,  where  the  young  birds  would 
be  sheltered  from  wind  and  rain.  The 
young  robins  would  flop  to  the  ground, 
when  she  urged  them,  then  hop  around 
after  Mrs.  Red-breast  as  she  pulled  grubs 
and  worms  from  the  ground  for  them. 
They  soon  learned  to  look  for  the  crumbs 
the  children  threw  them.  Fuzzy  would 
watch,  and  sometimes  make  a  playful  dash 
at  them;  but  at  such  times  they  would  sud- 
denly find  they  could  fly  out  of  reach. 

Another  time  a  humming-bird  flew  in 

34 


Tiny  Folk  and  Their  Troubles        35 

through  the  open  window  and  began  sip- 
ping nectar  from  the  bunch  of  wild  flowers 
the  children  had  brought  for  the  dining- 
table.  Tiniest  of  birds,  he  made  as  much 
noise  as  any  airplane  that  size  could  have 
made.  The  children  held  as  still  as  mice 
while  they  watched. 

One  day  Fuzzy  was  put  on  his  leash  just 
as  some  one  left  a  bunch  of  grapes  on  the 
porch  rail,  for  the  Ranger  had  ridden  down 
to  the  valley  settlement  for  supplies  the  day 
before,  and  brought  home  a  basket  of  the 
luscious  fruit.  My,  how  he  wanted  those 
grapes!  But  he  could  not  reach  them. 
There  was  nothing  left  to  do  but  to  watch 
the  young  robins  flying,  for  their  tails  had 
grown  longer,  and  so  they  could  keep  their 
balance  better  in  the  air. 

When  he  looked  back  at  the  grapes  again, 
an  orange-breasted  oriole  was  plunging  his 
beak  thirstily  into  a  grape.  He  only  ate 
one  this  time,  and  flew  away.  But  soon  he 
was  back  again,  eating  another  grape. 
Fuzzy  watched  anxiously.  Again  the  oriole 
came,  and  the  little  bear  watched  the  grapes 
disappear,  one  by  one.    When  the  children 


finally  let  him  off  Ms  leash,  there  was  noth- 
ing left  of  those  grapes  but  the  stems. 

Never  mind,  there  were  lizards  and  field 
mice  all  about  the  place.  This  afternoon, 
while  the  reddening  sun  still  shone  warm  on 
the  bowlders,  the  tiny  gray  lizards  with 
beady  eyes  on  the  alert  for  flies  darted  hither 
and  thither  among  the  gray  rocks.  The  in- 
stant they  saw  Fuzzy  watching,  they  would 
freeze  motionless,  or  rise  on  their  crooked 
legs  till  their  orange  breasts  showed,  watch 
him  till  he  came  too  near,  then  race  into  a 
crack  between  two  stones. 

Fuzzy  spent  much  time  chasing  field 
mice,  or  digging  them  out  of  their  tunnels. 
One  night  the  family  was  just  sitting  down 
to  supper  when  a  clawing  at  the  door  an- 
nounced that  Fuzzy  wanted  to  come  in. 
Coming  proudly  straight  to  the  little  girl, 
Fuzzy  laid  his  catch  in  her  lap.  It  was  a 
fat  field  mouse ! 

The  young  mouse  had  not  been  hurt  by 
Fuzzy  ?s  jaws,  and  the  instant  he  found  him- 
self free,  he  leaped  to  the  table  and  raced 
across  it  and  away,  and  not  even  Fuzzy 
could  find  him  after  that.    But  the  next 


Tiny  Folk  and  Their  Troubles        37 

morning  he  was  sitting  trembling  in  the 
mouse  trap  in  the  pantry,  which  was  one  of 
these  round  wire  affairs  that  has  a  hole  on 
top  that  lets  a  mouse  get  in,  but  won't  let 
him  out. 

How  he  trembled  when  the  little  girl 
found  him.  Fuzzy  watched  to  see  if  the 
prisoner  would  be  given  to  him  to  dispose 
of.  But  no,  the  little  girl  took  the  trap  out 
into  the  woods  and  there  opened  the  door 
and  let  the  mouse  find  a  hiding-place  in  the 
woods  where  he  belonged. 


CHAPTER  XI 

CHUCK  AND  CHIPPER 

THE  little  brown  bear  spent  much  of 
his  first  summer  chasing  chipmunks, 
but  these  squirrel-like  orange  and  black 
striped  fellows  were  too  quick  for  Fuzzy- 
Wuzz. 

The  pretty  creatures  lived  along  the  rock 
ledges  and  manzanita  bushes  that  sur- 
rounded the  Ranger's  cabin.  Chuck  and 
Chipper  were  two  young  chipmunks  who 
had  been  born  that  spring.  Now  their 
mother  had  a  second  brood  and  left  them 
pretty  much  to  themselves. 

My,  what  fun  they  had  playing  tag  and 
stuffing  their  cheeks  with  everything  good 
to  eat  they  could  find!  Their  cheeks  were 
built  like  pockets  and  extended  away  down 
the  sides  of  their  necks.  All  the  long, 
sunny  days  they  explored  the  interesting 


Chuck  and  Chipper  39 

world  in  which  they  found  themselves,— a 
world  of  good  things  to  eat. 

So  tiny  and  mouselike  were  they  that 
Fuzzy  would  have  liked  a  taste  of  them, 
even  if  there  were  plenty  of  green  things 
to  eat,  but  the  awkward,  flat-footed,  four 
months'  cub  could  not  catch  them. 

The  children,  too,  tried  to  capture  a  chip- 
munk, just  for  the  fun  of  holding  it  in  their 
hands  for  a  minute.  The  boy  had  a  cracker 
box  that  he  placed  upside  down  on  the 
ground,  then  propped  it  open  a  crack  with 
a  stick.  To  this  stick  he  tied  a  long  string. 
Strewing  the  ground  under  the  box  with 
peanuts,  he  waited  behind  a  tree  till  a  chip- 
munk came  and  began  stuffing  his  cheeks 
with  the  nuts.  Then  he  jerked  the  string, 
and  the  box  came  down  and  made  a  pris- 
oner of  him.  It  was  Chuck,  who  went 
about  all  day  with  his  cheerful  "chuck, 
chuck,  chuck V1 

The  boy,  holding  his  cloth  hat  in  readi- 
ness, lifted  the  box  a  crack  and  Chuck 
dashed  from  under,  but  only  to  find  him- 
self in  the  hat  crown.  The  next  thing  he 
knew,  the  boy  was  stroking  his  back  with 


4Q  Fuzzy-Wuzz 

one  finger.  Did  he  bite  ?  Not  the  least  lit- 
tle bit  in  the  world.  Chuck  never  tries  to 
fight  any  one.  His  safety  lies  in  running 
away  when  danger  threatens.  He  only 
cowered  down,  quaking,  with  fear,  his 
warm,  furry  sides  panting  hotly. 

Until  he  could  make  a  cage,  the  boy 
tethered  him  out  on  a  leash,  on  a  string  as 
long  as  the  cabin  kitchen,  and  left  him  with 
a  handful  of  peanuts.  But  the  prisoner 
was  too  frightened  to  eat.  He  was  even 
more  so  when  he  was  turned  loose  in  the 
cracker  box,  across  the  open  side  of  which 
the  boy  had  tacked  a  piece  of  screen  wire. 
He  only  crept  to  the  darkest  corner,  under 
a  lettuce  leaf,  and  wondered  if  he  were  ever 
again  to  go  racing  through  the  green  woods 
in  the  sunshine. 

The  boy  did  not  mean  to  keep  him  a  pris- 
oner, but  the  little  captive  did  not  under- 
stand. 

Curiously  Chuck's  brother,  Chipper, 
peered  at  him  from  the  top  of  a  stump.  "I 
told  you  not  to  go  into  that  box,12  he  chip- 
pered  in  a  frightened  chirp.    "Now  what 


Chuck  and  Chipper  41 

are  you  going  to  do?"  Just  then  he  saw 
the  little  girl  coming,  and  he  whisked  away 
under  a  stone. 

All  would  have  been  well,  she  would  not 
even  have  looked  his  way,  had  he  not  lost 
his  nerve  at  the  very  moment  she  was  pass- 
ing, and  begun  his  frightened  chippering. 
Quick  as  a  flash  she  had  thrown  her  sun- 
bonnet  over  rocks  and  all,  and  the  next 
thing  he  knew,  she  had  put  him  in  the  box 
with  Chuck. 

"Well,  at  least  there  are  two  of  us," 
Chuck  tried  to  find  a  bright  spot  in  the  sit- 
uation. And  he  felt  so  much  better  that  he 
began  to  eat  and  drink.  Then  the  night 
grew  chilly,  and  they  wadded  the  paper 
with  which  the  box  was  carpeted  into  a  sort 
of  hay  stack  of  paper  wads,  and  burrowed 
inside  it,  all  cuddled  together  into  a  ball  to 
keep  warm. 

But  Chipper  did  not  have  the  heart  to 
eat.  Three  days  later  he  was  so  feeble  from 
lack  of  food  and  exercise  that  he  could 
hardly  crawl.  The  boy,  seeing  this, 
opened  the  cage  door  and  let  them  out. 


42  Fuzzy-Wuzz 

After  all,  he  told  his  sister,  they  had  not 
been  half  so  much  fun  as  when  they  had 
been  racing  mischievously  all  over  the 
place. 


CHAPTER  XII 


THE  Ranger  was  leading  his  horse  down 
a  steep  trail  one  day,  the  dust  rising 
yellowly  in  the  noon-day  calm,  when  he 
came  to  an  inviting  bit  of  shade  and  took 
out  his  lunch.  For  a  time  he  munched  his 
cheese  sandwiches  with  his  mind  on  his 
work.  His  horse  neighed  thirstily,  and  he 
led  him  to  the  spring,  which  trickled 
from  the  hillside. 

As  he  turned  back,  he  saw  a  chipmunk 
nervously  gathering  up  his  crumbs.  Stand- 
ing so  still  that  he  hardly  breathed,  so  as 
not  to  frighten  her,  he  watched  while  she 
darted  forward,  stopped  to  study  him  with 
her  beady  eyes,  then  dared  a  few  steps  far- 
ther. At  last  she  picked  up  a  big  cracker 
crumb,  and  taking  it  in  her  handlike  fore 
paws,  began  nibbling  as  if  she  were  starved. 

43 


44  Fuzzy-Wuz% 

K  slight  movement  on  the  Ranger's  part 
sent  her  instantly  to  her  hole,  but  in  a  few 
minutes  she  was  back  again,  eating  raven- 
ously and  stuffing  her  cheeks  with  crumbs 
to  take  home.  But  the  crumbs  had  all  been 
cracker.  The  Ranger  now  threw  her  a 
morsel  of  cheese.  This  she  found  delicious. 
Never  in  all  her  life  had  she  tasted  any- 
thing so  good.  And  it  seemed  as  if  she 
never  could  get  enough  to  eat  these  days, 
for  she  had  a  family  of  wee  baby  chipmunks 
that  she  nursed  as  a  cat  does  her  kittens. 

Next  the  Ranger  held  a  piece  of  cheese 
between  his  thumb  and  finger.  She  wrig- 
gled her  nose  longingly,  and  hesitated,  dart- 
ing forward  a  few  inches,  now  stopping  in 
affright  at  what  she  had  done,  then  getting 
up  courage  for  another  step. 

Long  minutes  the  Ranger  waited,  with 
that  inviting  bit  of  cheese  held  out  to  her 
at  arm's-length.  So  timid  was  she  that  he 
dared  not  even  turn  his  head.  Closer, 
closer  she  crept,  till  at  last  she  could  just 
get  a  frightened  nibble.  My,  how  good  it 
was !  Closer  still  she  came,  till  she  was  eat- 
ing it  out  of  his  hand.    She  ate  until  he 


Mother  Chipmunk's  'Adventure        45 

could  feel  her  warm,  furry  nose  against  his 
finger. 

Making  a  sudden  grab,  he  closed  his  hand 
around  her.  He  hadn't  meant  to,  but  the 
temptation  had  been  too  much.  He  wanted 
first  to  stroke  her  silky  fur.  Then  he 
thought  there  could  be  no  harm  in  taking 
her  home  in  his  pocket  to  show  the  children. 
For  he  had  been  away  when  they  caught 
Chuck  and  Chipper.  Of  course  he  didn't 
know  about  her  babies. 

Mother  Chipmunk  gave  one  shrill  squeak 
of  despair.  Then  she  was  buttoned  fast  in 
the  Ranger's  pocket,  and  he  was  riding 
farther  and  farther  away  from  those  wee, 
helpless  babes  of  hers  in  the  hole  under  the 
rock. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  HOME  UNDEB  THE  BOOK 

BUT  what  of  the  babies  left  behind,  when 
Mother  Chipmunk  rode  away  in  the 
Ranger's  pocket? 

From  an  entrance  hole  under  a  rock  just 
large  enough  to  let  her  in,  and  not  large 
enough  for  a  weasel,  Mother  Chipmunk  had 
built  a  branching  tunnel  that  led  for  many 
feet  under  the  pine  needles  of  the  forest 
floor.  Three  feet  under-ground  was  the 
nursery  cave,  as  big  around  as  a  dinner 
plate,  all  softly  lined  with  dry  leaves  and 
moss. 

Out  of  the  main  tunnel  opened  a  smaller 
cave  in  which  refuse  was  placed.  There 
were  also  three  storage  caves  or  pantries, 
where  in  winter  Mother  Chipmunk  kept  her 
nuts  and  berries,  dried  grasshoppers  and 

46 


The  Home  Under  the  Bock  47 

other  delicacies  for  the  long  months  when 
it  is  white  and  cold  out  of  doors. 

Just  now  the  nursery  cave  was  occu- 
pied by  four  of  the  most  cunning  baby  chip- 
munks that  ever  were,— helpless  at  this  age, 
without  teeth.  When  Mother  Chipmunk 
washed  them,  she  would  stand  on  her  hind 
legs  and  take  one  up  on  her  arms  so  that 
she  could  smooth  its  fur  with  her  tongue. 

Now  these  helpless  babies  would  starve  to 
death,  she  told  herself.  She  must  find  a 
way  to  escape,  if  her  life  depended  on  it. 
And  she  must  find  it  quickly,  or  she  could 
never  travel  back  all  those  miles  the  Ranger 
was  taking  her. 

She  struggled  and  struggled,  there  in  the 
Ranger's  pocket.  But  he  had  fastened  it 
shut.  On  they  went,  jogging  slowly  down 
the  rocky  trail.  She  couldn't  see  a  thing, 
but  she  felt  the  rhythmic  jolting  at  each 
step  of  the  horse.  At  last  it  seemed  as  if 
she  must  be  standing  on  her  head.  The 
Ranger  had  leapt  to  the  ground,  and  was 
stooping  to  drink  at  a  spring.  As  he  bent, 
the  pocket  came  unbuttoned.  Out  she 
squeezed,  straight  into  the  icy  water. 


48  Fuzzy-Wuzz 

"Well,  I  never !"  exclaimed  the  Banger, 
as  she  struck  out  with  all  her  might,  swim- 
.ming  across  the  pool  till  she  could  scramble 
to  shore.  Hiding  under  a  stone  till  she  was 
sure  he  had  gone,  she  started  racing  back 
along  the  way  she  had  come.  She  reached 
home  to  find  her  babies  crying  for  her. 

Chipmunks  are  easy  to  tame,  if  one  does 
not  try  to  keep  them  prisoner.  Before  the 
summer  was  over,  the  children  had  Chuck 
and  Chipper  so  that  they  came  around  every 
meal  time  for  something  good  to  eat,  and  if 
the  window  was  left  open,  they  would  come 
right  into  the  cabin  for  it.  Once  they  nearly 
buried  themselves  by  jumping  into  the  cold 
ashes  of  the  fireplace. 

They  used  to  drink  from  the  water  pail 
when  it  was  full  enough  for  them  to  reach 
the  water  from  the  rim.  One  day  Chipper 
reached  too  far,  fell  in,  and  had  to  swim  for 
it.  But  when  he  reached  the  side  of  the 
granite  pail,  it  was  too  smooth  for  his  claws 
and  he  could  not  get  out.  The  children 
found  him  near  drowning. 

Now  Fuzzy  had  a  real  grievance,  for  al- 
ways before,  anything  the  children  had  in 


The  Home  Under  the  Rock  49 

their  pockets  to  eat  was  for  him.  Now 
Chuck  and  Chipper  searched  them  first. 
Fuzzy  was  more  eager  than  ever  to  catch 
the  impudent  rascals. 


CHAPTER  XIY 

THE  CACHE 

CHUCK  and  Chipper  were  mighty  busy 
chipmunks,  filling  their  cache,— to  use 
the  Western  term  that  rhymes  with  to-day, 
meaning  a  hiding-place  for  food  supplies. 

The  season  was  short,  here  in  the  high 
Sierras.  Ordinarily  it  snowed  as  late  as 
May,  and  as  early  as  October.  By  the  last 
of  August  one  expected  frost  to  tint  the 
mountain  sides.  Day  followed  perfect, 
sunny  day,  and  night  succeeded  cool,  star- 
strewn  night  without  a  hint  of  rain;  but 
Chuck  and  Chipper  knew  that  before  the 
moon  was  full  again,  the  snow  would  be  sil- 
vering the  pine  trees,— promise  of  the  fif- 
teen-foot drifts  to  come. 

They  must  have  enough  in  their  cache  to 
live  on  till  spring. 

Chipmunks  do  not  hibernate  in  the  way 

50 


The  Cache  51 

that  bears  do.  They  sleep  a  good  deal,  but 
they  do  not  go  into  an  all-winter  sleep,  and 
when  they  wake,  there  in  their  caves  away 
under-ground  where  the  cold  cannot  reach 
them,  they  must  eat. 

Everywhere  among  the  brush  and  fallen 
timber  and  along  the  rock  ledges  they 
searched  for  food  to  store  away  for  winter. 
Racing  briskly  forth  each  morning,  as  soon 
as  the  sun  began  to  slant  warmingly  through 
the  fir  trees,  Chuck  and  Chipper  vied  with 
each  other  to  see  which  could  harvest  the 
most  nuts.  And  Fuzzy- Wuzz  vied  with 
both  to  see  if  he  could  catch  them. 

Always  they  were  too  alert  for  him. 
Their  black,  beady  eyes  would  spy  him  out, 
no  matter  how  softly  he  came  padding 
along,  and  then  they  would  climb  into  the 
top  of  some  bush  he  could  not  climb  and 
scold  him  and  mock  at  him  with  their  bird- 
like chirp. 

Wild  gooseberries  were  one  of  their  fa- 
vorite foods,— as  they  were  the  little  bear's, 
for  they  could  bite  on*  the  prickers,  and 
Fuzzy  didn't  mind  them. 

They  also  collected  thistle  seed  in  their 


52  Fuzzy-Wuzz 

cheek  pockets,  to  say  nothing  of  thimble 
berries,  dogwood  seed,  and  other  seeds  and 
-berries.  But  where  Fuzzy  envied  them  was 
when  it  came  to  pine  nuts.  Every  pine  cone, 
from  the  yellow  pine  that  grew  so  tall,  to  the 
dwarfed  nut  pine  that  the  Indians  love,  is 
full  of  seeds.  But  the  cones  are  also  cov- 
ered with  sharp  thorns,  and  so  long  as  the 
cones  were  green,  the  nuts  were  safe  from 
the  little  bear.  He  would  have  to  wait  till 
they  turned  brown  and  opened  of  their 
own  accord. 

But  Chuck  and  Chipper  had  no  such 
trouble.  They  could  nibble  the  cone  apart 
and  get  at  the  sweet  kernels  as  easily  as 
anything.  Fuzzy  used  to  watch  them  en- 
viously. Then  an  idea  came  to  him.  He 
watched  narrowly  as  the  chipmunks  filled 
their  cheeks  and  scuttled  away  to  their  un- 
der-ground store-rooms. 

Sniffing  and  snuffing  this  way  and  that, 
along  the  way  they  had  gone,  his  wonderful 
nose  finally  told  him  just  where  their  cache 
was  located.  Digging  down  about  three 
feet,  he  scratched  the  roof  off  it  while  Chip- 


The  Cache  53 

per  chucked  wrathfully  and  Chuck  chip- 
pered  in  his  fright. 

What  a  find  for  the  bear  cub!  Fully  a 
peck  of  the  delicious  pine  nuts  lay  before 
him,— and  how  he  did  feast!  How  his  little 
black  eyes  twinkled  at  thought  that  he  had 
outwitted  the  impudent  things! 

But  for  Chuck  and  Chipper  it  meant  that 
half  their  harvest  work  was  gone  for  noth- 
ing, and  winter  now  too  near  for  them  to 
gather  more.    Then  Chipper  had  a  big  idea. 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE  PIKE  NUTS 

4  4TT  is  the  queerest  thing!"  exclaimed 
A  the  Ranger's  wife,  "what  can  have 
become  of  those  pine  nuts  I  was  saving  for 
Christmas.  I  had  fully  a  peck  in  that 
basket  on  the  top  shelf. '  -  She  looked  doubt- 
fully at  Fuzzy- Wuzz. 

"The  cub  never  could  have  done  it,"  the 
Ranger  said.  "If  he  had  climbed  up  there, 
he  would  have  knocked  down  a  lot  of  stuff." 

"No,  but  what  can  have  become  of  the 
nuts?  There  isn't  a  sign  of  mice,  either. 
And  we  never  have  a  human  thief,  away  up 
here  in  the  mountains.  Besides,  what  a 
funny  thing  it  would  be  for  a  thief  just  to 
take  the  pine  nuts  and  nothing  else." 

"The  thief  must  be  some  one  of  our  furry 
friends,  some  one  who  is  especially  fond  of 
nuts,"  suggested  the  Ranger. 

64, 


The  Pine  Nuts  55 

"There  is  a  tiny  hole  gnawed  in  the  wall 
up  there.  I  thought  it  might  be  a  mouse, 
but  they  always  leave  some  sign." 

•"'Let's  see,  now,  if  there  aren't  some  foot- 
prints to  tell  the  story,"  and  the  Ranger 
climbed  up  on  the  window  sill  and  began 
peering  about  with  a  lighted  match.  "Ho, 
ho!"  he  called. 

For  there,  faintly  outlined  by  the  dust, 
was  a  footprint  like  that  of  a  tiny  squirrel, 
—the  print  of  a  long,  hind  foot,  with  its  five 
delicate  toe  marks.  And  on  the  edge  of  the 
hole  the  Banger's  sharp  eyes  had  spied  a 
hair,— a  single  hair  of  some  one's  orange 
colored  fur. 

"It's  a  chipmunk,  and  he  must  have  sat 
up  here  on  his  hind  legs  to  sample  a  nut  be- 
fore he  stuffed  his  cheeks.  But  imagine  how 
many  trips  he  must  have  had  to  make  to 
carry  away  all  those  nuts!" 

"Perhaps  there  was  more  than  one." 

"That's  right.  But  there  are  so  many 
tracks  running  through  the  dust  that  this 
is  the  only  clear  one  I  see.  Must  have  been 
made  just  this  morning,  for  no  dust  has  set- 
tled in  it  yet.   Well,  now,  the  nuts  are  gone. 


56  Fuzzy-Wuzz 

And  I  don't  believe  they'll  come  for  any- 
thing more.  That  frost  last  night  will  send 
them  into  winter  quarters. n 

The  Ranger  was  right  about  the  chip- 
munks. But  he  little  dreamed  what  had 
driven  them  to  it.  Had  Fuzzy- Wuzz  not 
found  and  gobbled  up  the  nuts  they  had 
gathered  for  themselves,  Chuck  and  Chip- 
per never  would  have  gotten  up  the  cour- 
age to  come  so  often  to  the  cabin,  where 
Clickety-Clack,  the  owl,  prowled  about  the 
dark  corners  looking  for  just  such  tid-bits 
as  they  would  make  for  him. 

As  it  was,  Chuck  and  Chipper  were  going 
to  have  a  well-stocked  cache  that  winter. 

"As  an  actual  fact,"  said  the  Ranger 
that  evening,  when  they  had  told  the  chil- 
dren about  it,  "I  don't  begrudge  the  little 
rascals  what  they  have  taken,  they  are  such 
good  foresters.  "j 

"Foresters!"  exclaimed  the  boy,  drag- 
ging his  father  to  the  arm  chair  by  the  fire 
and  snuggling  against  his  knees,  for  he 
scented  a  story. 

"You  see,"  his  father  told  him,  "they 
bury  so  many  nuts  that  they  often  forget 


The  Pine  Nuts  51 

where  they  put  them,  and  these  nuts  that 
are  planted  that  way  grow  into  trees." 

"My!"  exclaimed  the  boy,  "wouldn't  a 
chipmunk  be  surprised  if  he  knew  he  planted 
trees  V2 

"He  doesn't  know  it.  It  is  just  a  part  of 
Mother  Nature's  wonderful  plan  for  keep- 
ing this  old  world  going." 

The  children's  mother  suddenly  laughed. 
"What  do  you  think  I  saw  to-day?"  she 
asked  them.  "  Fuzzy- Wuzz  curled  up 
asleep  under  a  tree  and  looking  so  much  like 
a  hump  of  earth  that  a  chipmunk  hopped 
off  the  trunk  and  landed  square  on  his  nose. 
I  don't  know  which  was  the  more  surprised, 
the  cub  or  the  chipmunk," 


CHAPTER  XVI 

FTTZZY-WUZZ  PLAYS  FATE 

FUZZY-WJIZZ  lay  basking  in  the  late 
September  sunshine.  The  mountains 
had  blossomed  forth  since  the  frost  with 
patches  of  berries  that  gleamed  handsomely 
against  the  evergreens. 

He  had  followed  the  children  to  a  sandy 
place  among  the  granite  ledges  back  of  the 
cabin,  where  they  found  a  colony  of  the 
giant  black  ants.  The  children  had  been 
having  a  lot  of  fun  with  these  ants.  First 
they  laid  a  piece  of  leaf  over  the  entrance 
to  an  ant  hill.  Promptly  one  of  the  in- 
mates poked  his  head  forth  to  see  what  had 
so  suddenly  shut  off  the  light. 

Seeing  the  leaf,  he  went  back  and  got 
help,  and  about  a  dozen  ants  came  out  and 
took  hold  of  one  edge  of  the  leaf,  and  pulled, 
while  the  first  ant  stood  on  the  stem  and 


Fuzzy-Wuzz  Plays  Fate  59 

directed  operations.  That  way,  they  had 
their  entrance  clear  again  in  no  time. 

The  next  thing,  the  children  laid  a  bit  of 
bark  over  their  front  door.  This  time  they 
shoved  the  obstruction  from  underneath  till 
they  had  turned  it  over,  out  of  their  way. 

Then  the  children  laid  a  pebble  over  the 
hole.  That  was  almost  too  much  for  the  lit- 
tle colony.  At  first  they  couldn't  even  get 
out.  Then  they  tunneled  a  way  past  the 
edge  of  the  stone,  and  began  studying  the 
situation.  Some  clambered  over  the  peb- 
ble while  others  walked  around  it,  measur- 
ing. Then  they  tried  pushing,  but  it  was 
too  heavy  for  them. 

They  tried  pulling,  but  with  no  result. 
They  tried  getting  underneath  and  shoving, 
but  still  they  could  not  budge  it.  And  at 
last  the  children  got  tired  of  waiting  for 
them,  and  went  away,  deciding  to  come  back 
later  and  take  away  the  pebble  if  the  ants 
had  not  succeeded  in  so  doing. 

Meantime  Fuzzy- Wuzz  had  gone  to  sleep. 
His  dreams  were  cut  short  by  the  awfullest 
pinching  on  the  sensitive  tip  of  his  nose. 
The  ants  had  finally  tunneled  a  new  opening 


60  Fuzzy-Wuzz 

beside  the  pebble,  though  it  had  meant  a 
long  afternoon's  work  for  them.  Seeing 
the  cub  asleep  so  near,  they  naturally  de- 
cided that  he  must  be  responsible  for  all 
their  trouble,  and  appointed  a  committee  to 
drive  him  away. 

But  because  of  his  thick  fur,  they  couldn't 
find  a  spot  where  they  could  reach  him  with 
their  pincers  except  on  the  nose. 

"Gee!  I  always  get  the  worst  of  things!" 
rumbled  the  little  brown  bear,  as  he  swept 
them  off:  with  one  swipe  of  his  furry  paw, 
and  would  have  shuffled  away  but  for  the 
sight  that  met  his  gaze. 

Chuck,  the  chipmunk,  stood  there  before 
him,  paralyzed  with  fright.  Coiled  in 
front  of  him  swayed  an  enormous  bull 
snake,  with  red  jaws  open  to  swallow  him. 

If  the  snake  had  been  stretched  out  full 
length,  he  would  have  been  as  long  as  the 
Ranger  was  tall.  Just  now  he  looked  like 
a  coil  of  thick  rope,  with  his  ugly  head  com- 
ing up  out  of  the  middle  of  the  coil  and 
pointing  his  forked  red  tongue  straight  at 
the  young  chipmunk. 

He  was  a  white  snake,  with  brownish 


Fuzzy-Wuzz  Plays  Fate  61 

stripes  that  seemed  to  mark  his  back  in 
squares.  As  is  true  of  most  snakes,  he  was 
not  a  kind  that  would  do  any  harm  to  a 
child,  but  he  swallowed  chipmunks  whole, 
and  poor  Chuck  knew  it. 

It  seemed  to  Chuck  as  if  his  legs  had 
frozen  too  stiff  to  run  away,  yet  if  he  did 
not  run,  the  snake  would  swallow  him. 

At  that  fateful  moment,  Fuzzy-Wuzz 
caught  sight  of  them.  One  pounce  and  the 
fat  cub  had  the  snake  writhing  between  his 
jaws.  Then  the  snake  had  wriggled  away 
and  was  making  for  his  hole,  the  chipmunk 
forgotten. 

"That  certainly  squares  the  matter  of  tne 
pine  nuts,''  Chuck  told  his  partner  when 
he  was  safe  back  home.  For  the  cinnamon 
cub  had  certainly  played  the  role  of  Fate, 
though  without  realizing  it.  For  him  the 
snake  had  only  meant  a  bit  of  sport. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

BTTCKY,  THE  BUKKO 

FTJZZY-WUZZ  had  learned  to  ride  a 
burro  away  back  there  when  the 
Ranger  had  rescued  him  from  x  drowning. 

He  had  traveled  on  top  of  the  pack  as  the 
Ranger  went  his  rounds.  After  awhile  he 
learned  to  leap  to  the  little  donkey's  back 
whenever  he  wanted  to  ride.  The  burro 
never  minded. 

She  was  mighty  useful  to  the  Ranger,  was 
the  donkey,  for  she  could  carry  a  pack  over 
the  narrowest  mountain  trail.  No  matter 
how  rocky  and  dangerous  it  was,  she  never 
missed  her  footing.  (A  horse  sometimes 
slipped  and  fell  over  the  canyon  wall.)  She 
also  possessed  the  ability  to  go  without 
water  when  it  was  necessary.  Her  compact 
little  hoofs  were  just  built  for  rocky  trails, 
and  her  ancestors  had  lived  in  Egypt  and 


Bucky,  the  Burro  63 

the  dry  mountainous  regions  of  Mexico, 
where  a  good  drink  every  night  after  the 
day's  work  is  over,  often  has  to  suffice. 
That  makes  a  burro  especially  useful  dur- 
ing the  long  California  dry  season. 

Then,  too,  a  pack  burro  can  live,  and 
fatten  on  the  dry  grass  and  leaves  she  can 
find  for  herself  during  the  months  when  no 
rain  falls.  That  is  more  than  a  horse  can 
do.  The  Ranger  kept  a  couple  of  saddle 
horses,  which  he  had  to  treat  with  especial 
care,  but  for  the  long  trips  into  the  back 
country,  or  down  to  the  settlement  and  back 
for  supplies,  he  relied  on  his  burros. 

Jack  and  Bucky,  as  he  called  them,  had 
even  carried  the  furniture  of  the  cabin 
twenty  miles  on  their  backs.  And  so  obe- 
dient were  they  that  one  day,  when  the 
Ranger  wanted  to  send  supplies  home  but 
could  not  leave  the  settlement  himself  for 
several  days  yet,  he  simply  gave  the  shaggy 
little  animals  a  slap  and  pointed  their  noses 
along  the  home  trail,  and  they  went  back 
all  alone. 

But  they  had  one  fault.  They  were  as 
stubborn  as  could  be.    If  they  made  up 


64  Fuzzy-Wuzz 

their  minds  to  stop,  no  amount  of  urging, 
nor  beating,  even,  could  make  them  change 
their  minds.  If  the  Ranger  accidentally- 
put  too  heavy  a  pack  on  their  backs,  or  one 
that  didn't  fit  comfortably,  they  would  sim- 
ply lie  down,  or  else  leap  into  the  air  with 
bowed  backs  and  buck  it  off. 

Now  that  spring  a  baby  burro  had  been 
born  in  the  corral.  Young  Bucky,  they 
called  the  gray  rascal.  Such  a  cunning 
baby  as  he  was,  too,  with  his  long,  waggling 
ears,  and  almost  hairless  tail  with  just  a 
tassel  on  the  end  of  it. 

At  first  he  was  so  shy  that  every  time 
Fuzzy-Wuzz  came  near,  he  would  run  for 
all  he  was  worth.  But  gradually  he  got 
used  to  the  fat  brown  cub. 

The  pack  burros  were  gone  on  a  trip  to 
the  settlement  when  it  occurred  to  Fuzzy- 
Wuzz  that  he  would  like  to  take  a  little  ride 
around  the  corral.  Seeing  no  one  but 
young  Bucky,  he  leapt  to  his  back. 

The  next  thing  Fuzzy  knew,  he  was  sail- 
ing into  the  air,  for  Bucky,  objecting  to 
such  a  passenger,  had  simply  given  one  big 
jump  that  sent  the  little  bear  flying  off  over 


The  next  thing  Fuzzy  knew,  he  was  sailing  into  the  air. 


Bucky,  the  Burro  65 

his  head.  Nor  did  he  stop  at  that.  Com- 
ing with  all  four  of  his  neat  hoofs  together, 
his  back  bowed,  he  leapt  again  and  again, 
shaking  his  head  angrily  and  grunting  with 
the  effort  he  had  made. 

After  that,  if  Fuzzy  came  too  near,  he 
simply  struck  out  at  him  with  his  hind  feet, 
and  it  was  only  luck  on  Fuzzy 's  part  that 
he  did  not  get  a  good  kick. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 


4  irV\ HERE  is  nothing  like  starting 
A  early,"  said  the  Ranger  one  day, 
"when  it  comes  to  training  animals  and 
children.  I  am  going  to  break  young 
Bucky  to  the  pack  saddle." 

The  little  donkey  was  accordingly  fitted 
with  a  pair  of  kyacks,  almost  empty  to  start 
with.  So  far,  so  good.  But  Bucky  would 
not  budge. 

Meekly  he  stood  there,  his  long  ears 
pointed  inquiringly  at  the  Ranger  and  his 
eyes  rolling  till  the  whites  showed.  He 
made  no  protest,  but  neither  could  he  be 
made  to  move.  The  Ranger  did  not  believe 
in  beating  him.  Besides,  he  knew  from 
watching  others  that  it  would  do  no  good. 
A  burro  will  die  under  your  blows,  but  he 
will  not  give  in. 


"As  Stubborn  as  a  Mule"  67 

The  Banger  tried  coaxing,  he  tried  com- 
manding, he  tried  pulling  on  the  halter  rope 
and  shoving  from  behind,  but  still  that  mite 
of  a  donkey  stood  with  hoofs  braced  and 
refused  to  go  one  step  with  that  pack  sad- 
dle on  his  back. 

It  occurred  to  the  Ranger  that  perhaps 
he  had  tried  too  heavy  a  load,  for  a  burro 
knows  better  than  any  man  what  he  can 
carry.  He  emptied  the  kyacks  entirely. 
Sure  enough,  they  had  been  too  heavy,— 
light  as  they  were.— Bucky  now  followed 
him  with  ears  wagging  peacefully,  back  and 
forth,  back  and  forth,  as  is  the  way  of  bur- 
ros. 

He  followed  the  Ranger,  as  docile'  as  a 
puppy,  planting  his  small  hoofs  carefully 
on  the  rocky  trail.  After  perhaps  half  an 
hour  he  stopped.  The  Ranger  coaxed  him 
with  a  biscuit  from  his  lunch,  but  the  burro 
would  not  budge;  he  switched  his  heels, 
but  Bucky  would  not  move.  He  simply 
felt  that  it  was  time  for  a  rest,  and  he  used 
the  one  argument  at  his  command.  When 
he  had  rested  long  enough,  he  started  on 
again  of  his  own  accord. 


68  Fuzzy-Wuzz 

"  'He's  as  stubborn  as  a  mule,' :"  laughed 
the  Ranger.  "But  I  guess  he  knows  better 
than  I  do  when  he's  had  enough.  I  would- 
n't urge  him  beyond  his  strength  for  any- 
thing.1" 

Bucky  certainly  had  a  mind  of  his  own. 
Fuzzy  had  been  frog  hunting  down  along 
the  creek  one  day  when  the  Ranger  came 
along  on  horseback,  with  the  big  burros  and 
young  Bucky  following  after.  He  was  on 
his  way  to  bring  in  firewood  from  a  clear- 
ing where  he  had  chopped  up  a  fallen  tree, 
and  though  Bucky  was  not  to  carry  more 
than  one  stick  on  each  side,  he  thought  it 
good  training  for  him  to  go  along  and  learn 
to  follow  a  pack  train. 

They  came  to  a  corduroy  bridge  across 
the  creek.  Now  burros  are  afraid  of  water. 
Their  ancestors  were  desert  animals,  and 
every  last  donkey  of  them  has  to  be  taught 
to  cross  a  bridge.  It  was  no  different  with 
young  Bucky. 

Tripping  daintily  along  behind  his 
mother,  he  stopped  when  he  came  to  the 
first  log  of  that  bridge,  and  planted  his 
fore  hoofs  firmly  against  it. 


"As  Stubborn  as  a  Mule"  69 

The  Ranger  was  prepared  to  offer  him 
an  apple,  but  Bucky  would  only  stretch  his 
neck  toward  the  fruit  and  beg  without 
being  willing  to  come  one  inch  nearer  for 
it.  Then  the  Ranger  tried  to  pull  him  by 
his  halter  rope,  but  he  tugged  and  he  pulled 
till  he  was  afraid  he  would  pull  the  rascal's 
head  off,  without  being  able  to  budge  him. 

The  Ranger  set  his  wits  to  work  once 
more.  He  had  heard  of  people  actually 
lighting  a  fire  under  the  stubborn  animals, 
but  though  the  flame  singed  their  fur,  they 
were  more  afraid  of  the  bridge. 

At  last,  in  disgust,  he  simply  took  the 
young  burro  on  his  back  by  getting  under 
him  and  drawing  his  fore  legs  over  his 
shoulders,  and  carried  him  across. 

Fuzzy,  watching,  enjoyed  it  hugely. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE  PINTO  PONY 

FTJZZY-WUZZ,  like  all  bears,  old  013 
young,  was  fond  of  trout,  and  these 
autumn  days  it  was  his  great  delight  to  fish 
the  creek. 

Earlier  in  the  year  the  stream  had  been 
so  high  that  he  could  not  have  done  this,  but 
now  it  came  no  more  than  neck  high  along 
the  banks,  as  he  stood  with  barbed  paw  out- 
spread, ready  to  spear  the  first  fingerling 
that  came  along. 

He  was  there  fishing  the  day  that  Bucky, 
the  young  burro,  got  his  first  swimming  les- 
son. Where  the  bridge  crossed  the  creek 
it  was  deeper.  It  was  where  the  children 
came  to  swim.  This  time  Bucky  protested 
as  he  had  before  when  they  came  to  the 
bridge.  Then  he  got  the  surprise  of  his 
life.    The  Ranger  simply  picked  the  little 

70 


The  Pinto  Pony  71 

gray  beast  up  in  his  arms  and  flung  him 
overboard  into  the  pool. 

You  never  in  all  your  life  saw  such  a  sur- 
prised animal  as  young  Bucky.  But  did 
he  drown?  Not  a  bit  of  it.  Every  animal 
—except  the  human— can  swim  if  it  has  to, 
and  Bucky  simply  struck  out  for  shore  with 
all  fours. 

Always  thereafter  he  crossed  the  bridge 
willingly  enough. 

(How  it  did  make  Fuzzy 's  little  black 
eyes  twinkle.  For  he  had  not  forgotten 
when  Bucky  bucked  him  off.) 

Another  thing  interested  him,  too.  (For 
there  is  nothing  in  all  the  woods  so  curious 
as  a  bear  cub) .  That  was  when  the  Ranger 
taught  the  pinto  pony  to  walk  a  log. 

Away  off  there  in  the  high  Sierras,  it  is 
often  necessary  for  a  man's  horse  to  make 
his  way  up  and  down  steep  slopes,  over 
fallen  tree  trunks  and  over  streams  where 
there  is  no  bridge.  Sometimes  a  horse  can 
swim,  but  where  there  is  a  log  across  a 
stream,  those  mountain-bred  ponies  are 
taught  to  cross  the  log. 

First  the  Ranger  found  a  log  that  had 


72  Fuzzy-Wuzz 

fallen  on  a  bit  of  level  ground,— a  big  log 
that  would  have  been  wide  enough  for  two 
ponies  to  walk  abreast  upon.  Over  this  he 
led  Pinto,— as  he  had  named  the  pony  from 
the  large  white  patches  on  his  brown  coat. 
That  log  did  not  seem  alarming. 

Next  the  Ranger  laid  a  log  across  a  shal- 
low arm  of  the  creek  where,  if  Pinto  had 
fallen  off,  he  would  not  have  wetted  more 
than  his  ankles.  That  was  all  right,  too, 
thought  Pinto. 

As  the  final  stage  in  his  training,  the 
Ranger  led  him  along  a  log  that  crossed  one 
end  of  the  old  swimming  hole,  where  it  was 
really  deep.  But  Pinto  had  by  this  time 
learned  to  trust  both  his  master  and  the  logs, 
and  he  crossed  unafraid. 

Now  Fuzzy- Wuzz  had  followed  the  creek 
up-stream  till  he  was  so  high  up  the  moun- 
tain side  that  the  stony  creek  bed  was  all 
dry  except  for  a  mere  trickle,  and  an  oc- 
casional pool.  He  now  proceeded  to  explore 
down-stream. 

Here  the  rocks  were  all  hollowed  out  in 
smooth,  round  bowls,  some  of  them  as  big 
as  wash  tubs,  some  only  the  size  of  finger 


The  Pinto  Pony  73 

bowls,  and  a  few  as  large  around  as  a  dining- 
table. 

When  the  snows  melted  in  the  spring, 
bringing  with  them  a  flood  of  rushing  water 
and  grinding  stones,  the  stones  had  been 
swirled  around  and  around  till  they  had 
ground  out  these  rock  basins.  The  swim- 
ming hole  was  just  a  huge  rock  basin. 

As  Fuzzy  came  to  deeper  water,  he  met 
every  here  and  there  a  make-believe  water- 
fall. Sometimes  he  plunged  over  it  head 
foremost,  and  sometimes  his  feet  slipped 
out  from  under  him  before  he  was  ready, 
and  over  the  falls  he  went,  landing  in  the 
pool  beneath,  and  being  swirled  around  in 
the  rushing  waters  till  he  was  half  drowned. 

But  even  a  small  cub  is  a  good  swimmer, 
and  most  of  the  time  he  really  enjoyed  the 
excitement. 

These  autumn  days,  however,  he  was  to 
learn  a  new  way  of  swimming.  Now  that 
the  worst  danger  of  forest  fires  was  over  and 
the  Ranger  had  more  leisure,  he  took  two 
weeks  off  and  the  whole  family  went  on  a 
camping  trip  to  a  grove  of  Big  Trees,  and 
Fuzzy-Wuzz  went  with  them. 


74k  Fuzzy-Wuzz 

Dapple  was  left  to  browse  with  the  cattle, 
and  Clickety-Clack  was  given  the  freedom 
of  the  barn ;  while  the  Ranger,  his  wife  and 
boy  rode  horseback,  and  the  little  girl  behind 
her  father.  The  brown  bear  cub  was  placed 
on  top  of  the  pack  Bucky's  mother  carried. 
Young  Bucky  followed  after. 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE  PACK-HORSE  TRIP 

EVERY  one  enjoyed  the  camping  trip, 
from  the  Ranger's  little  girl,  whose 
first  long  trip  it  was  on  horseback,  to  Fuzzy- 
Wnzz,  whose  natural  love  of  exploring  made 
it  a  real  treat  to  ride  all  day  atop  the  burro's 
pack. 

The  sun  felt  good  on  one's  fur  in  the  crisp 
autumn  weather,  as  they  threaded  the  clean 
aisles  of  pine  and  fir,— and  my  what  appe- 
tites they  had!  Then  the  starlit  evenings 
around  the  bon-fire,  when  the  little  bear  was 
allowed  to  snooze  on  the  saddle  blankets ! 

He  got  himself  in  bad  one  night,  though", 
by  helping  himself  to  a  plate  of  flapjacks 
before  the  family  had  had  their  share.  If 
it  hadn't  been  for  that— but  wait! 

Bucky,  the  young  burro,  was  also  fond  of 
flapjacks.  In  fact,  he  was  fond  of  anything 
that  could  be  eaten,  and  he  was  everlast- 

75 


76  Fuzzy-Wuzz 

ingly  fond  of  eating.  The  Eanger  used  to 
say  there  was  no  bottom  to  his  stomach,— 
the  more  he  put  into  it,  the  more  he  wanted. 
But  then,  he  was  growing  fast. 

That  little  gray  donkey  would  eat  any- 
thing from  a  thistle  to  a  piece  of  paper 
smeared  with  bacon  grease.  As  each  night 
two  or  three  cans  of  vegetables  were  opened, 
he  would  eat  the  paper  off  the  cans  for  the 
flour  paste  with  which  they  had  been  pasted 
on. 

He  chewed  the  Ranger's  shoe,  one  night, 
just  to  sample  the  flavor.  He  loved  potato 
parings,  and  raised  his  voice  and  sang  for 
the  bacon  rinds. 

Oh,  what  a  voice  he  had!  "Hee-haw,  hee- 
haw, hee-haw!"  he  would  bray  till  some 
one  came  to  feed  him.  "It's  worth  while 
giving  him  something  to  eat,  just  to  keep 
him  quiet,"  declared  the  Ranger's  wife. 

On  the  trail  young  Bucky,  like  his  par- 
ents, expressed  most  of  his  feelings  with  his 
ears.  When  all  was  going  well,  their  long 
ears  swayed  forward  and  backward,  for- 
ward and  backward,  with  each  step  they 
took.    If  something  startled  them,  forward 


The  Pack-Horse  Trip  77 

would  prick  those  great,  listening  ears  till 
their  curiosity  had  been  satisfied.  But  if 
they  got  stubborn,  back  they  would  lay  their 
ears  as  flat  as  they  could  plaster  them. 

One  night  every  one  was  extra  tired,  and 
they  all  forgot  and  left  the  flour  bag  open. 
It  was  the  night  they  arrived  at  the  Big 
Trees,  and  they  were  too  filled  with  awe  and 
wonder  to  think  of  anything  practical.  The 
next  morning  Fuzzy  happened  to  wake 
early,  and  went  on2  on  an  exploring  expedi- 
tion of  his  own.  That  wonderful  nose  of  his 
had  told  him  that  there  was  a  nest  of  field 
mice  somewhere  about  there,  and  he  meant 
to  dig  them  out. 

Meantime  the  family  arose,  bathed  in  the 
river,  and  started  breakfast  preparations. 
"While  the  boy  brought  in  wood  for  the  fire 
the  little  girl  carried  water  from  the  spring, 
and  the  Ranger  rounded  up  the  stock,— as 
they  say  out  West  when  they  go  to  drive 
back  the  horses,  who  often  stray  in  the 
night,— his  wife  made  ready  to  bake  biscuit. 

She  looked  for  the  big  twenty-five-pound 
flour  sack.  It  was  half  empty,  and  flour  was 
strewn  all  over  the  ground ! 


78  Fuzzy-Wuzz 

The  two  big  burros  were  always  hobbled, 
like  the  horses,  over  night,  so  that  they  could 
browse  in  the  little  mountain  meadows  with- 
out wandering  too  far.  Young  Bucky  was 
left  free.  Just  now  he  was  nowhere  in 
sight. 

"Children,"  called  their  mother  sharply, 
"see  what  that  bear  of  yours  has  done!" 
And  Fuzzy,  returning  at  that  moment,  won- 
dered why  every  one  scolded. 

When  the  Eanger  came  in  with  the  pack 
train,  young  Bucky 's  muzzle  was  white  with 
flour  and  his  sides  puffed  out  amazingly. 
"Here's  the  culprit,"  he  sang  out.  "Trust 
a  burro  for  raiding  camp  every  chance  he 
gets.  Nothing  but  a  donkey  could  pull 
through  after  a  spree  like  what  he's  been 
on.y 

"Then  Fuzzy  didn't  do  a  thing, n  and 
the  boy  flung  his  arms  around  the  brown 
cub. 

"Perhaps  not  this  time,  but  if  he  hadn't 
stolen  those  flapjacks,  he  wouldn't  have  been 
misjudged." 


CHAPTER  XXI 

"WHEN  THE  WOELD  TURNED  WHITE 

IT  certainly  was  hard,  thought  Fuzzy- 
Wuzz,  for  a  cub  bear  to  keep  out  of 
trouble. 

Back  from  the  camping  trip,  the  Ranger's 
children  spent  much  time  in  the  great  log 
barn,  and  Fuzzy  with  them.  How  he  did 
love  to  turn  somersaults  in  the  hay-mow! 
Like  a  furry  clown,  he  would  tumble  about 
as  if  he  hadn't  a  bone  in  his  body. 

Sometimes  the  hens  did  not  lay  in  their 
boxes,  and  the  children  used  to  be  sent  to 
hunt  eggs,  which  they  would  find  here  and 
there  in  the  hay.  Fuzzy,  too,  learned  to 
hunt  for  eggs,  though  those  he  found  were 
never  seen  again,  save  for  the  smears  of  egg 
yolk  on  his  jaws. 

He  soon  found  it  was  great  sport  to  chase 
the  hens  and  send  them  squawking,  feathers 

79 


80  Fuzzy-Wuzz 

flying  as  he  caught  a  mouthful  of  tail  plum- 
age. 

He  also  delighted  in  coming  around  at 
milking  time.  At  first  the  cows  were  so  un- 
easy with  the  little  bear  around  that  they 
would  kick  their  pails  over  and  lower  their 
horns  at  him.  So  the  Ranger  tried  to  drive 
him  away  by  milking  a  stream  of  milk  at 
him  as  one  would  turn  on  the  hose. 

Was  Fuzzy  driven  away?  On  the  con- 
trary, he  just  opened  his  mouth  wide  and 
drank  it  down.  After  that  he  used  to  come 
and  beg  to  have  them  milk  into  his  mouth. 

But  Fuzzy  was  finally  banished  from  the 
barn.  The  mischievous  young  rascal  caught 
a  pig  one  day  and  hugged  him  till  the  pig 
squealed  as  if  he  were  being  killed.  A  lit- 
tle more  and  he  would  have  been,  for  a  bear 
has  a  powerful  hug.  It  certainly  was  hard 
for  a  fun-loving  little  bear  to  keep  out  of 
trouble. 

At  last  Fuzzy  disappeared.  The  children 
searched  and  searched,  but  they  could  find 
him  nowhere.  They  set  all  his  favorite  dain- 
ties out  on  the  back  porch  for  him,— bacon, 
and  honey,  and  wild  gooseberries,— every- 


When  the  World  Turned  White       81 

thing  they  could  think  of  that  he  especially 
loved. 

They  called  him,  they  searched  the  woods 
for  some  trace  of  his  footprints  in  the  soft 
ground  left  by  the  early  rains,  but  nowhere 
could  they  find  hide  nor  hair  of  him. 

"Do  you  suppose  a  lion's  got  him?-  they 
worried. 

*  *  No, '  '•  laughed  the  Ranger.  * i  I  shouldn  't 
be  the  least  bit  surprised  if  he  had  gone  to 
hibernating.  You  know  a  bear  always  sleeps 
the  winter  away.  He  can't  find  anything 
more  to  eat,  with  the  snow  deep  on  the 
ground,  and  he  can't  keep  warm  unless  he 
eats,  so  he  just  creeps  off  into  some  hole  and 
curls  up  into  a  ball,  with  his  toes  inside,  and 
sleeps  till  spring." 

" Fuzzy  didn't  need  to.  We  would  have 
fed  him." 

"Yes,  but  you  see,  bears  have  had  to  hi- 
bernate for  so  many,  many  years  that  it 
has  become  their  nature  to.  I  guess  he 
couldn't  help  himself:  he  just  got  to  feeling 
so  sleepy  that  nothing  else  mattered.10 

"But  where  is  he  hibernating?  I  just 
wish  we  knew  where  he  was.raa 


82  Fuzzy-Wuzz 

"Oh,  probably  in  some  cave  in  the  hill- 
side, or  under  a  big  bowlder  where  he  would 
be  sheltered  from  the  wind;  or  perhaps  he 
has  just  crawled  under  some  fallen  tree, 
where  the  snow  will  bank  around  him  and 
make  a  cave,  and  keep  the  cold  wind  on: 
him,  and  his  breath  will  melt  an  air-hole. ,J 

Then  one  afternoon,  when  the  sun  had 
been  blotted  out  by  the  big  white  flakes  of 
their  first  real,  lasting  snow,  the  boy  was 
pitching  hay  from  the  mow  for  the  horses 
when  something  round  and  furry  tumbled 
out  and  into  a  horse  stall.  It  was  wee 
Fuzzy-Wuzz,  who  had  been  pried  from  the 
warm  corner  he  had  selected  for  his  win- 
ter's sleep. 

He  blinked  and  yawned  a  few  times. 
Then  he  disappeared  again,  and  it  was  not 
till  the  following  spring  that  they  found 
him  snoozing  away  in  the  far  corner  of  the 
haymow. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE  RING-TAILED  OAT 

THE  children  missed  Fuzzy- Wuzz  these 
days,  the  more  so  as  Dapple,  the  fawn, 
had  to  spend  the  winter  in  the  barn  with  the 
cows.  They  could  not  have  her  indoors,  of 
course. 

The  Ranger  found  a  litter  of  ring-tailed 
kittens.  The  kits  are  generally  born  in 
June,  and  this  was  October,  so  that  they 
were  half  grown.  Their  mother  and  the  two 
larger  kittens  ran  away  as  the  Ranger 
reached  into  their  den  in  the  hollow  tree, 
but  the  littlest  one  was  not  quick  enough. 

Now  the  Ranger  remembered  his  grand- 
father telling  of  the  days  of  Forty-nine, 
when  he  joined  the  gold  rush  to  California. 
He  had  had  a  ring-tailed  cat  for  a  pet. 

Building  his  rude  log  cabin  somewhere 
about  these  very  mountains  while  he  washed 


84  Fuzzy-Wuzz 

the  precious  metal  out  of  the  gravel  of  the 
creek  beds,  he  noticed  that  his  supplies  were 
being  pilfered,  and  thinking  it  must  be  a 
fox,  he  set  a  trap. 

He  was  awakened  in  the  middle  of  the 
night  by  the  most  curious  sound,— half  the 
bark  a  small  dog  makes,  and  half  yowl. 
Looking  to  see  what  he  had  in  his  trap,  that 
he  could  put  it  out  of  its  misery,  he  found 
an  animal  that  he  at  first  took  to  be  a  house 
cat.  Then  he  noticed  that  it  was  longer, 
and  had  a  much  longer  tail,  and  shorter 
legs.  The  most  curious  part  of  it  was  that 
the  tail  was  striped  black  and  white,  like  a 
'coon's.  Its  face,  too,  was  pointed  like  that 
of  a  raccoon.  Instead  of  the  mischievous 
eyes  peering  from  a  black  mask  that  a  'coon 
seems  to  have,  this  animal  had  large,  gentle 
looking  eyes  and  looked  scared  to  death. 

He  learned  later  that  it  was  a  'coon  cat, 
or  civet,  more  commonly  called  the  ring-tail 
cat. 

"There,  there,  pussy,"  he  soothed  her,  as 
he  released  her  from  the  trap  and  carried 
her  into  his  cabin.  "You  just  come  on  in 
here  and  have  some  fish,  and  we'll  bury  the 


The  'Ring-tailed  Cat  85 

hatchet.  I  need  a  cat  to  keep  the  field  mice 
out  of  my  grub,"  and  he  straightway 
adopted  her. 

She  was  easy  to  tame.  She  generally 
slept  all  day  and  chased  mice  all  night,— 
of  which  an  abundance  were  attracted  by 
his  pantry  shelf.  She  also  showed  her  like- 
ness to  the  raccoon  by  her  fondness  for  fruit 
and  sugar. 

The  Ranger,  remembering  this  pet  his 
grandfather  used  to  tell  about,  decided  to 
take  the  ring-tail  cat  home  to  the  children. 
And  my,  how  pleased  they  were!  At  first 
they  had  to  keep  her  in  a  cage,  or  she  would 
have  run  away.  And  when  they  placed 
food  before  her,  she  would  cower  to  the 
furthest  corner  as  if  terrified. 

After  a  couple  of  days  of  this,  the  Ranger 
told  his  boy  that  if  he  really  meant  to  tame 
her,  he  would  have  to  make  her  eat  from 
his  hand.  After  that,  though  she  had  a  pan 
of  drinking  water  in  her  cage,  she  got  no 
-food  till  she  was  willing  to  eat  it  out  of  his 
hand. 

For  several  days  she  refused  to  touch 
what  he  offered  her.    Then  the  tempting 


86  Fuzzy-Wuzz 

odor  of  a  piece  of  wild  goose  liver  held  be- 
tween the  boy's  fingers  proved  too  much  for 
her  and  she  came  up  and  ate  it  while  he 
held  it.  A  few  days  more  and  they  could 
let  her  out  of  her  cage. 

Ring-tail,  as  he  named  her,  soon  became 
the  pet  of  the  household,— to  Clickety- 
Clack's  disgust,  for  the  owl  liked  attention 
too.  She  would  play  like  any  other  kitten, 
and  she  ate  all  kinds  of  table  scraps,  figs 
and  prunes  being  her  especial  fondness. 

She  was  no  end  graceful,  was  Ring-tail, 
with  her  long,  plumy  tail  and  her  pointed 
face.  And  she  responded  to  all  the  old  kit- 
ten tricks,  from  chasing  her  tail  to  wres- 
tling with  one's  hand,  tooth  and  claw.  She 
craved  affection,  too,  like  any  house  cat. 

There  was  just  one  trouble.  They  could 
not  trust  her  in  the  same  room  with  the 
canary. 

Fuzzy-Wuzz  had  never  bothered  the  bird, 
for  though  he  could  climb,  he  was  too 
clumsy  to  reach  into  the  cage  as  it  hung 
there  above  the  window  box.  But  with 
Ring-tail  it  was  different. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

THE  BABY  CANARY 

AWAY  back  last  spring,  before  the 
Ranger  found  the  little  bear,  the  ca- 
naries had  started  a  nest  of  five  pretty  eggs, 
and  there  the  mother  bird  had  sat,  keeping 
them  warm,  while  her  mate  sang  to  her. 

By  and  by  the  children  noticed  a  move- 
ment under  the  mother  bird's  wing.  Then 
a  tiny  yellow  head  came  poking  out  through 
her  feathers.  When  she  got  off  the  next 
day  to  eat,  they  noticed  a  hole  no  bigger 
than  a  pin  head  in  the  shell  of  one  of  the  re- 
maining eggs,  then  a  yellow  bill  was  thrust 
through,  and  withdrawn  again.  After  that 
there  was  a  pecking  and  a  struggling  inside 
the  shell,  and  the  next  thing  they  knew,  out 
came  the  funniest  baby  they  had  ever  seen, 
with  pieces  of  the  shell  still  sticking  to  him. 


88  Fuzzy-JVuzz 

Naked  he  was,  with  eyes  not  yet  open, 
and  a  head  so  large  for  his  slender  neck  that 
he  could  hardly  hold  it  up.  His  legs 
sprawled  weakly  from  beneath  him,  and  his 
toes  were  so  fragile  that  it  seemed  as  if  they 
must  break  if  he  tried  to  stand  on  them. 

The  bird  hatched  the  day  before  was  the 
same.  The  next  day  came  another,  and  the 
day  after  that,  another.  The  fifth  egg  did 
not  hatch,  and  the  mother  bird  shoved  it  out 
of  the  nest  with  her  foot. 

My,  how  busy  those  four  fledglings  did 
keep  their  parents  for  the  Tiext  two  weeks! 
Opening  their  wide  mouths  till  one  could 
see  right  down  their  throats,  they  would 
just  sit  there  in  the  nest  all  day  long  eat- 
ing what  their  parents  brought  them,— 
chopped  egg  and  cracker,  and  baby  bird 
seed,  which  the  big  birds  first  cracked  for 
them  in  their  own  bills.  It  seemed  as  if 
there  was  no  getting  those  young  canaries 
filled.  Every  time  one  got  a  mouthful,  he 
would  flap  his  pin-feathery  wings  and  cry 
"  tweet-tweet-tweet-tweet, "  till  one  won- 
dered how  so  much  voice  could  issue  from 
such  a  tiny  bird. 


The  Baby  Canary  89 

By  the  time  the  little  ones  were  able  to 
stand  on  the  roost  in  a  row,  there  were  only 
three,  for  one  had  lost  his  balance  as  he 
stood  on  the  edge  of  the  nest,  and  all  the 
flapping  of  his  nearly  naked  wings  had  not 
served  to  break  his  fall. 

Chirping  their  high-pitched  food  call,  the 
remaining  birdlings  would  flap  wings  that 
just  began  to  show  a  row  of  teeny,  pale  yel- 
low feathers  along  the  edges. 

Then  a  dreadful  thing  happened.  A 
great  brown  butcher  bird  lived  in  a  thorn 
bush  not  far  away.  This  horrid  creature 
lived  on  mice  and  little  birds,  and  like  the 
witch  of  the  fairy  tale,  hung  his  victims  on 
the  thorns  till  he  was  ready  to  eat  them. 

One  day  the  children  thought  the  canaries 
would  like  to  be  out  of  doors,  and  hung  the 
cage  in  a  pine  tree.  An  hour  later  that 
butcher  bird  had  reached  in  through  the 
bars  of  the  cage  and  bitten  the  heads  off 
the  whole  canary  family  save  one  little  one. 
He  had  been  in  the  nest  out  of  reach. 

The  little  girl  cried  her  heart  out.  But 
they  decided  they  would  do  their  best  to 
bring  that  fledgling  up  by  hand.    By  this 


90  Fuzzy-Wuzz 

time  he  was  just  about  big  enough  to  have 
gone  to  bed  in  a  teaspoon.  His  wings  were 
fringed  with  pale  yellow,  and  he  would 
perch  on  a  fore  finger  and  open  his  mouth 
for  them  to  feed  him,  chirping  shrilly  and 
flapping  his  wings  with  all  his  might  to  keep 
from  falling  off. 

The  boy  gave  him  just  the  tiniest  bits  at 
a  time  on  the  end  of  a  flattened  twig.  Soon 
he  was  able  to  eat  for  himself.  At  night 
he  had  to  be  snuggled  into  a  warm  nest 
made  of  an  old  piece  of  flannel,  and  every 
day  his  cage  was  set  in  the  sunshine  and  he 
was  given  a  saucer  of  clean,  warm  water  to 
bathe  in.    My,  how  he  did  love  to  splash. 

The  children  wondered  if  he  were  going 
to  be  a  singer,  like  his  father.  He  was  three 
months  old  before  he  really  tried  very  hard 
to  show  them.  Then  what  a  golden  voice 
had  that  golden  yellow  bird!  At  first  he 
had  been  pale  yellow,  but  the  larger  he  grew, 
the  yellower  became  his  plumage.  They 
named  him  Caruso. 

Sometimes  the  children  would  let  him  out 
of  his  cage  in  the  living  room.  How  he 
loved  the  freedom  of  it !    How  he  explored 


The  Baby  Canary  91 

the  plants  in  the  south  window,  and  the  sil- 
ver spoons  on  the  table!  He  loved  every- 
thing bright  and  shiny. 

As  he  had  never  known  what  fear  was 
(except  the  time  the  butcher  bird  came), 
he  would  ride  about  on  the  children's  shoul- 
ders and  eat  out  of  their  hands. 

They  taught  him  to  come  when  they  called 
him,  and  it  was  a  common  sight  to  see  the 
children  doing  their  lessons  around  the 
lamp  of  an  evening  and  Caruso  perching  on 
their  fingers  or  picking  at  their  pencil 
points. 

Any  sudden  movement  startled  him,  but 
until  the  other  pets  came,  a  more  trustful 
little  bird  you  never  saw.  That  is  why,  un- 
less Eing-tail  and  Fuzzy- Wuzz  and  Click- 
ety-Clack  were  shut  out  of  the  room,  he  had 
always  had  to  stay  in  his  cage. 


CHAPTER  XXIV, 


SOMETIMES  the  Ranger  took  the  chil- 
dren snow-shoeing  through  the  winter 
woods.  Their  game  was  to  find  and  name 
as  many  footprints  as  they  could,  of  the 
many  they  saw  criss-crossing  the  snow. 
Sometimes  they  could  read  a  story  in  those 
footprints,  like  the  time  they  followed  the 
delicate  mouse  tracks  till  those  of  a  fox  told 
the  end  of  the  story. 

They  soon  learned  to  know  the  difference 
between  the  pointed  tracks  of  the  deer  and 
the  manlike  footprints  of  the  mice  and 
squirrels,  raccoons  and  hears.  Then  there 
were  the  doglike  prints  of  the  foxes  and 
coyotes,  and  the  catlike  marks  of  the  wild 
cats,— those  handsome  gray  striped  Bay 
lynxes  that  looked  so  much  like  big  house 
cats  except  for  their  tasseled  ears  and  big 


"Jest  an  Ornery  Pup"  93 

feet,  bobbed  tails  and  the  fur  that  bung 
down  from  tbeir  cheeks  in  points.  Once 
they  caught  a  glimpse  of  one  crouched  on 
the  limb  of  a  tree,— a  beauty  of  a  great, 
fierce  cat  with  his  round  yellow  eyes. 

Once  they  even  came  across  the  giant  cat- 
like track  of  a  mountain  lion,  and  their 
father  made  them  go  back  while  he  followed 
with  his  gun. 

He  could  tell  whether  an  animal  had  been 
walking  or  running,  whether  it  had  been 
chasing  something  or  was  being  chased,  or 
whether  it  was  a  deer  or  a  doe.  It  made 
these  winter  walks  mighty  interesting  to  the 
children. 

Just  before  Christmas  the  Eanger  went 
to  the  settlement  on  his  snow-shoes  to  get 
the  mail.  When  he  came  back,  out  of  his 
coat  pocket  tumbled  a  yellow  ball  of  fur. 

"A  dog!"  his  wife  exclaimed. 

"  'Jest  an  ornery  pup/  the  grocer  says. 
But  I  figured  he  might  came  in  handy  with 
our  small  fry,,?  by  which  he  meant  the  chil- 
dren. "They're  missing  that  cub  so  might- 
ily." 

"I  don't  believe  anything  will  ever  crowd 


94  Fuzzy-Wuzz 

Fuzzy-Wuzz  out  of  their  affections,112  she 
smiled  back. 

"Well,  I'll  feel  safer  about  them,  any- 
how, if  we  have  a  dog  about  the  place." 

The  children  welcomed  him  ardently. 
He  was  a  friendly,  wriggling  fellow,  was 
Wiggledy,— as  they  promptly  named  him. 
Just  a  yellow  puppy,  part  terrier  and  part 
something  else,  the  Ranger  thought  him. 
But  a  love-hungry  heart  beat  in  that  furry 
chest.  He  was  soon  pals  with  both  chil- 
dren. 

Young  animals  can  generally  be  trained 
to  eat  out  of  the  same  dish.  But  Ring-tail 
was  a  half  grown  cat  when  Wiggledy  ar- 
rived, and  it  was  too  late,  so  far  as  she  was 
concerned,  to  make  friends  between  them. 

Wiggledy  soon  came  to  look  upon  every- 
thing the  children  owned  as  under  his 
especial  guardianship.  One  day  when  he 
and  Ring-tail  had  been  shut  in  the  barn 
while  the  children  had  their  lessons,  he 
barked  so  hard  that  their  mother  sent  them 
to  see  what  the  trouble  was. 

They  opened  the  barn  door  and  called 


" Jest  an  Ornery  Pup"  95 

him,  but  he  would  not  come.  Instead,  he 
kept  running  to  the  rain  water  barrel  in 
the  far  corner  of  the  vacant  horse  stall,  and 
back  again.  "Hush  your  noise !"  scolded 
the  little  girl.  But  he  only  set  his  teeth  in 
her  skirt  and  tried  to  pull  her  after  him. 
At  last  she  came  with  him. 

Dragging  her  to  the  water  barrel,  he 
stood  on  his  hind  legs,  and  with  fore  paws 
against  the  barrel,  began  barking  harder 
than  ever. 

She  peered  within.  It  was  dusk  in  that 
corner  of  the  barn,  and  at  first  she  could 
see  nothing.  At  last  her  eyes  made  out  a 
movement  in  the  water.  Peering  closer, 
she  saw,  just  above  the  water  line,  which 
was  half  way  down  the  barrel,  the  pointed 
face  of  the  ring-tail  cat.  Ring-tail  often 
drank  from  the  barrel,  reaching  down  while 
she  clung  with  hind  feet  on  the  barrel  rim. 
This  time  she  had  lost  her  balance  and 
fallen  in.  She  was  swimming  feebly.  A 
moment  more  and  she  suddenly  sank  out  of 
sight. 

At  his  sister's  cry,  the  boy  came  running, 


96  Fuzzy -Wuzz 

and  fished  out  the  drowning  animal.  Ring- 
tail's eyes  were  shut  and  her  body  felt  stiff 
and  cold. 

Tearfully  they  carried  her  into  the  cabin, 
where  their  mother  gave  her  a  swallow  of 
something  hot  and  laid  her  behind  the 
kitchen  stove  in  a  warm  blanket.  Anx- 
iously the  yellow  pup  watched  and  waited, 
every  now  and  then  giving  her  wet  face  a 
lick,  and  whimpering  inquiringly. 

When  at  last  she  began  to  move  her  claws 
feebly  and  to  open  her  eyes  a  crack,  my !  how 
joyously  he  barked. 

"I  vow  that  pup  deserves  a  medal  for  life- 
saving,"  declared  the  Eanger,  giving  Wig- 
gledy  a  ham  bone. 

But  at  that  moment  Ring-tail,  having 
fully  revived,  snatched  his  bone  away.— She 
was  certainly  feeling  better. 


r  • 


CHAPTER  XXV 

A  REGULAR  DOG 

WIGGLEDY  loved  nothing  better  than 
to  go  snow-shoeing  with  the  Ran- 
ger's children. 

Of  course  the  fat  pup  was  helpless  in  the 
deep  snow,  but  he  would  go  plunging  into 
their  snow-shoe  tracks,  leaping  from  one 
to  another  with  the  most  joyous  barking 
and  wriggling  and  flapping  of  ears. 

Sometimes  he  caught  up  with  them. 
Then  he  would  try  to  steal  a  ride  on  the 
back  of  a  snow-shoe,  till  they  discovered 
why  it  was  so  hard  to  lift  that  foot. 

After  awhile  they  taught  him  to  help 
them  bring  in  the  fire-wood.  Giving  him 
just  one  small  stick  at  a  time  to  take  be- 
tween his  jaws,  they  had  him  trotting  ahead 
of  them,  every  trip  they  made. 

Later   they  made   him   a   harness   and 

97 


98  Fuzzy-Wuzz 

taught  him  to  drag  their  light  sled  over  the 
snow  crust,  though  he  would  have  to  grow 
a  lot  before  he  could  bring  in  wood  that  way. 
To  both  the  children  and  the  pup  it  was  all 
just  fun.  They  wouldn't  have  enjoyed  it 
a  bit  if  they  had  had  to  do  it. 

"I  do  believe  that  pup's  going  to  pan  out 
a  regular  dog,-'  the  Ranger  decided.  "I 
tell  you  what,  it  takes  these  mongrels  for 
just  plain,  ordinary  brains,— not  the  kind 
that  bird  dogs  have,  nor  fighting  dogs,  nor 
any  special  kind,  but  just  plain  all- 'round 
brains.2' 

"And  heart,"  added  his  wife  softly, 
watching  the  children  romping  with  Wig- 
gledy  on  the  hearth  rug.  "I'll  feel  now, 
if  anything  happened  to  the  children  when 
they're  out  snow-shoeing,  he'll  come  and 
tell  me,  or  die  fighting  for  them." 

"I  hadn't  noticed  that  he  was  particu- 
larly scrappy.*-3 

"Ho,  ho!  You  haven't  seen  him  chas- 
ing Clickety-Clack.  I  wonder  how  he'll  hit 
it  off  with  the  little  bear." 

"That  we  shall  see  when  spring  comes. "J 

Now  Ring-tail  had  formed  the  habit  of 


A  Regular  Dog  99 

sleeping  on  the  children's  bed.  When 
Wiggledy  first  came,  lie  was  so  tiny  and  so 
lonesome  that  he,  too,  was  taken  under 
cover.  About  this  time  the  excitement  be- 
gan. 

When  the  two  animals  were  kept  on  op- 
posite sides  of  the  bed,  there  was  peace. 
But  let  Wiggledy  come  too  near  and  King- 
tail  promptly  boxed  his  ears.  Then  he 
would  yelp  and  scuttle  closer  to  the  chil- 
dren. And  sometimes  they  were  awakened 
by  a  regular  cat  and  dog  fight,— in  which 
the  pup,  being  the  youngest,  generally  got 
the  worst  of  it. 

If  the  pup  were  banished,  he  howled  for- 
lornly till  they  took  him  back  to  the  warmth 
of  their  beds  and  hearts.  Finally  it  came 
to  be  understood  between  them  that  Wig- 
gledy was  to  sleep  down  at  the  foot,  under 
a  fold  of  blanket,  while  King-tail  took  the 
head,  where  the  feather-bed  billowed  out 
above  the  children's  heads,  and  where  she 
could  come  and  go  without  disturbing  any 
one,— for  she  was  still  a  prowler  of  the 
night. 

If  the  children  overslept  and  Wiggledy 


100  Fuzzy-Wuzz 

got  hungry,  he  would  simply  pull  the  covers 
off  them. 

The  question  was  what  would  happen 
when  Fuzzy-Wuzz  came  back. 


CHAPTER  XXtfl 

CHUMS 

IT  was  still  damp  on  the  forest  floor,  with 
here  and  there  a  patch  of  melting  snow, 
when  Fuzzy- Wuzz  awoke  from  his  winter 
sleep  in  the  haymow. 

But  down  on  the  rocks  where  the  lake 
lapped  over  pebbly  levels,  the  sun  shone  hot 
and  still.  Here  the  little  bear  was  basking 
when  the  yellow  pup  first  sighted  him. 

"How-wowT'j  exclaimed  Wiggledy,  the 
force  of  his  bark  raising  him  clear  off  his 
feet. 

"Hoof  V-'  asked  the  cub,  rising  on  his  fat 
hind  legs  inquiringly. 

The  children,  who  had  been  watching,  ar- 
rived at  that  moment,  and  explained  to  the 
pair  that  they  must  be  friends,  though  this 
would  hardly  have  been  necessary.    The 

two  young  animals  were  soon  romping  de- 
101 


102  Fuzzy -Wuzz 

lightedly  together.  Inside  a  week  they 
were  chums. 

Lizards  basked  on  the  warm  rocks,  and 
the  new-made  comrades,  tired  of  wrestling 
and  playing  tag,  sprawled  out  side  by  side 
one  day  to  watch  them.  By  and  by  they 
began  to  notice  that  the  rocks  and  sandy 
shallows  all  around  them  were  alert  with 
little  goggle  eyes  that  peered  up  at  them 
with  an  unwinking  stare. 

The  eyes  were  set  in  round  bodies  mot- 
tled brown  and  deeper  brown,  just  the  size 
of  bantam's  eggs  with  long,  fish-like  tails 
attached.  What  could  they  be,  asked  Wig- 
gledy  with  a  soft  rumble  in  his  throat.— 
Fuzz,  being  near-sighted,  did  not  see  them 
till  they  moved.  The  eyes  were  set  in 
heavy,  protruding  lids. 

They  were  bull-frog  babies,  and  the  two 
watchers  crept  down  over  their  bowlder, 
Fuzzy-Wuzz  with  paw  outstretched  ready 
to  make  a  grab  at  them.  The  fat  tad-poles 
would  wait  saucily  till  his  claws  were  just 
above  them,  then  with  a  sudden  flirt  of  their 
fleshy  tails,  they  would  flip  away,  just 
barely   out   of   reach.    Then   they   would 


Chums  103 

turn  and  ogle  the  little  bear  with  their 
bulging  eyes  again.     It  was  tantalizing. 

Sometimes  Fuzzy  would  feel  a  soft  body 
slip  past  his  paw,  but  before  he  could  clutch 
it,  the  prize  would  be  far  away,  and  circling 
teasingly  back  again. 

Finding  a  precarious  footing  on  the  tip 
of  a  rock  just  above  one  of  the  thickest  col- 
onies, Fuzzy  made  a  sudden  grab,— but 
quick  as  thought,  they  had  slapped  their 
way  in  a  solid  body  just  far  enough  to  be 
out  of  reach,— and  there  they  ogled  him 
again,  maliciously. 

The  fat  cub  now  moved  to  another  rock 
to  try  the  trick.  This  time,  splash!  he 
slipped  into  the  slimy  water.  My,  how  dis- 
gusted he  was  at  that ! 

With  one  swift  bat  of  his  good  right  paw, 
he  flipped  through  the  water.  This  time  he 
sent  one  flying  out  on  shore.  Clambering 
out  himself,  he  examined  his  prize  drip- 
pingly. 

Soft  and  round  as  an  egg  without  a  shell, 
the  tad-pole  displayed  the  buds  of  feet, 
where  later  would  sprout  as  plump  a  pair 
of  frog's  legs  as  ever  graced  a  frying  pan. 


104  Fuzzy-Wuzz 

His  brown  back  Mother  Nature  bad  tinted 
to  look  like  the  rocks  to  any  creature  hunt- 
ing from  above. 

With  cautious  paw,  the  cub  flopped  him 
over  on  his  back,  displaying  the  shining 
nether  side  that  would  look  so  like  water  to 
any  fish  foe  hunting  from  below  him. 

The  pink  gills  were  wide  open  and  gasp- 
ing, for  he  was  drowning  as  surely  on  land 
as  a  cub  would  have  drowned  under  water. 
With  a  snap  of  his  jaws,  Fuzzy  finished  the 
life  story  of  that  young  frog-to-be. 

The  chums  spent  much  of  their  time,  the 
next  few  weeks,  hunting  bull-frog  tad-poles 
and  field  mice  together. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

PBETTT  PAWS,  THE  PINE  SQUIEEEL 

ONE  hot  day  Fuzzy-Wuzz  had  gone  to 
sleep  in  a  pine  tree  when  he  was 
awakened  by  a  little  high  pitched  bark,  like 
the  yap  of  a  young  fox. 

He  opened  one  eye  cautiously.  There  on 
a  limb  higher  up  stood  a  squirrel,  scolding 
him  for  all  she  was  worth.  But  she  was  not 
like  the  gray  squirrels  he  had  seen.  She 
was  dark  brown,  and  her  under  side,  and  all 
four  paws  were  a  rich  orange  color.  Her 
tail  was  bordered  with  yellow. 

It  was  Pretty  Paws,  the  pine  squirrel. 
She  was  a  member  of  the  Douglas  squir- 
rel tribe,  (named  after  the  man  who  dis- 
covered them).  She  must  have  considered 
the  little  bear  an  intruder,  the  way  she 
scolded.  Was  this  her  particular  pine  tree, 
he  wondered? 

105 


106  Fuzzy-Wuzz 

His  little  black  eyes  twinkling,  he  climbed 
a  little  higher,— though  he  was  pretty  near 
the  top  for  even  his  small  weight.  At  that 
she  scolded  more  angrily  than  ever,  fairly 
rising  into  the  air  with  the  ferocity  of  her 
barking.  She  was  joined  by  her  mate,  who 
also  barked  at  Fuzzy. 

"Ha,  ha!"  thought  the  little  bear,  "there 
must  be  a  reason  for  all  this  noise  they  are 
making.  I  must  find  out  what  it  is."  And 
he  wondered  if  such  small  creatures  could 
really  hurt  a  bear  cub,  as  they  were  surely 
threatening  to  do. 

The  wind,  which  had  been  blowing 
through  the  tree  top,  came  to  a  rest,  and 
with  that,  Fuzzy  caught  a  delightful  odor. 
It  was  the  odor  of  mushrooms.  Where  could 
they  be,  away  up  here  in  the  tree  top,  he 
asked  himself?  He  meant  to  find  out,  for 
of  all  the  plants  that  grew  in  those  woods, 
he  loved  mushrooms  best.  He  climbed  a 
few  steps  higher.  The  squirrels  leapt  to 
a  branch  below.  They  were  now  facing 
him,  and  threatening  to  eat  him  alive. 

He  made  a  sudden  rush  at  them,  with  a 
deep    throated    "Woof!"    |They    backed 


Chums  107 

away.  !A.t  that,  his  eyes  twinkled  more  than 
ever.    They  were  only  bluffing. 

He  climbed  to  the  next  limb,— the  tree 
top  swaying  with  his  weight.  There, 
spread  out  along  the  limb  in  the  sunshine, 
drying,  he  saw  what  had  smelled  so  won- 
derful—a whole  row  of  mushrooms.  But 
how  could  they  have  gotten  away  up  there  ? 
For  they  were  mushrooms  that  he  had 
found  on  the  ground.  He  gobbled  them 
greedily. 

He  thought  he  understood  now  why  the 
squirrels  had  scolded  so.  These  were  the 
mushrooms  they  had  collected,  and  laid  out 
to  dry  for  winter  use.  But  they  had  been 
his  mushrooms,  he  told  himself,  when  they 
grew  on  the  ground  beneath  the  tree. 
Never  mind,  he  would  make  them  his  again. 

The  children,  attracted  by  the  barking  in 
the  tree  top,  called  their  father  to  tell  them 
what  it  was.  These  pine  squirrels,  he  ex- 
plained, were  cousins  to  the  red  squirrels  of 
the  East. 

Just  now  Pretty  Paws  and  her  mate  were 
calling  loudly  for  all  their  friends  and  rela- 
tives to  come  and  help  them  scare  the  cub 


108  Fuzzy-Wuzz 

away.  But  Fuzzy  munched  right  on,  enjoy- 
ing each  mushroom  in  turn. 

Almost  instantly  the  woods  resounded 
with  the  call  notes  of  neighboring  pine 
squirrels,  who  were  coming  to  see  what  the 
trouble  was  all  about,— for  squirrels  are 
mighty  curious  about  all  that  is  going  on 
about  them.  Some  of  them  helped  scold 
Fuzzy,  others  sang  and  trilled  almost  like 
birds. 

The  first  litters  of  young  were  out  that 
afternoon,  and  some  of  these  orange- 
breasted  sprites  became  so  excited  that  they 
simply  rushed  up  and  down  their  tree 
trunks,  playing  tag  in  joyous  excitement. 

"I'll  catch  you,  if  you  don't  shut  up!" 
Fuzzy  woofed  at  them  as  he  finished  his 
feast  and  descended  awkwardly,  tail  end 
first,  till  he  could  drop  from  a  lower  branch 
like  a  fat  little  bag  of  flour. 

But  though  he  spent  all  that  afternoon, 
and  many  another,  chasing  Pretty  Paws  and 
her  friends,  as  they  came  down  to  gather 
pine  seeds  and  insect  larvae,  he  never  once 
succeeded  in  getting  so  much  as  a  mouthful 
of  fur.    Before  he  could  grab  them,  they 


Chums  109 

were  safe  on  a  limb,  flirting  their  tails  sauc- 
ily at  him  and  calling  him  all  sorts  of  names. 

Later  he  saw  Pretty  Paws  racing  through 
the  tree  tops  with  a  great  brown  creature 
in  hot  pursuit.  It  was  a  pine  marten,  or 
sable,— a  rare  animal  for  even  those  moun- 
tains. Fuzzy  didn't  believe  the  squirrel 
had  a  chance  in  the  world. 

He  watched  while  Pretty  Paws  went 
leaping  from  branch  to  branch,  and  from 
tree  to  tree,  and  the  marten  after  her.  As 
agile  as  herself,  for  all  his  great  size,  was 
that  marten.  How  it  ended  Fuzzy  never 
knew,  for  he  could  not  follow  fast  enough. 
But  if  it  wasn't  Pretty  Paws  herself  who 
barked  at  him  next  day,  it  was  her  twin 
sister. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

THE  KATTLESNAKE  DEN 

FUZZY  often  wandered  far  down  the 
mountain  side. 

One  hot  week  in  July  his  restless  wander- 
ing carried  him  almost  down  to  the  valley. 
He  had  been  chasing  a  jack  rabbit  through 
the  tall  grass  when  he  was  startled  by  a 
sound  like  the  rustling  of  a  dry  leaf,  only 
ever  so  many  times  louder.  He  jumped  out 
of  the  way  till  he  could  find  out  what  it 
would  be  that  could  make  such  a  queer 
sound. 

As  he  did  so,  a  great  snake  shot  from  its 

coil  to  the  spot  where  he  had  been  but  an 

instant  before.    Its  mouth  was  open  and  it 

displayed  two  long,  sharp  fangs.    Its  scaly 

back  was  mottled  with  cross-wise  stripes, 

dark,  reddish  brown,  with  yellow  edges  to 

the  lighter  spots. 

Euzzy's  fur  rose  along  the  back  of  his 
uo 


The  Rattlesnake  Den  111 

neck.  He  had  caught  many  a  snake  and 
eaten  it  with  relish,  but  not  this  kind.  This 
one  was  different.  This  must  be  what  had 
made  that  ominous  rattling  sound.  He  had 
nearly  stepped  on  it. 

He  started  to  climb  between  two  bowlders 
and  go  on  his  way,  but  no  sooner  had  he  set 
foot  on  the  spot  than  there  came  another  of 
those  peculiar  rattling  sounds,  then  another, 
and  another.  He  had  stepped  into  a  den  of 
rattlesnakes. 

Now  the  rattler  always  plays  fair.  It 
gives  warning  before  it  strikes.  As  an 
actual  fact,  it  will  not  strike  at  all  unless 
some  one  comes  near  stepping  on  it  or  makes 
it  fear  for  its  life.  But  the  unfortunate 
Fuzzy- Wuzz  had  actually  stepped  into  the 
retreat  of  a  whole  colony  of  baby  snakes. 
And  the  babies  themselves  were  equipped 
with  poison  fangs.  There  must  have  been 
other  mothers  there,  too,  the  way  they  rat- 
tled. And  now  the  first  snake  was  all  coiled 
ready  to  spring  again,  her  ugly  flat  head 
rising  straight  up  out  of  the  middle  of  the 
coil  and  her  tail  again  rattling  its  buttons 
warningly. 


112  Fuzzy-Wuzz 

The  little  bear  leapt  for  his  life,  but  he 
was  not  quite  quick  enough.  One  of  the 
snakes,  (he  never  knew  which  one,)  struck 
his  left  hind  foot  a  terrific  blow,  driving  its 
fangs  in  till  it  had  squeezed  the  little  poison 
bag  that  lies  at  the  root  of  each  fang,  so  that 
the  poison  ran  down  a  groove  in  the  fang. 

Fuzzy  ran  till  he  was  safely  away  from 
that  dangerous  neighborhood,  then  he  began 
to  feel  the  effects  of  the  poison.  His  foot 
swelled,  and  he  felt  as  if  he  could  lie  right 
down  and  die. 

A  great  many  animals  would  have  died. 
A  man  who  has  been  struck  by  a  rattler  can 
only  be  saved  by  drawing  all  the  poison  out 
of  the  wound,  and  other  mighty  serious 
treatment. 

It  was  a  mighty  serious  matter  with  the 
little  bear.  But  bears  are  hardy  specimens. 
They  can  survive  a  great  many  things  that 
other  animals  cannot.  He  was  pretty  ill  for 
a  time,  but  three  weeks  later  he  came  limp- 
ing back  to  the  Banger's  cabin. 

My,  how  glad  the  children  were  to  see 
him!    How  they  hugged  and  feasted  him! 


The  Rattlesnake  Den  113 

He  liked  it,  too.  He  had  been  through  a  lot 
since  last  he  went  exploring. 

Wiggledy  was  just  as  glad  to  greet  his 
chum.  Every  one  was  glad  except  Clickety- 
Clack,  the  little  screech  owl,  whom  he  was 
soon  chasing  as  merrily  as  ever,  and  Dapple, 
the  yearling  fawn,  who  had  never  had  much 
to  do  with  him.  After  that  for  several  days 
the  pup  and  the  bear  dug  quietly  for  ground 
squirrels. 

These  ground  squirrels  were  skimpy 
tailed  and  stupid,  and  lived  in  holes  that 
they  dug  for  themselves  and  their  large  lit- 
ters of  young  along  the  edges  of  the  moun- 
tain meadows.  Several  families  of  them 
had  home-steaded  in  one  corner  of  the 
Ranger's  garden  patch,  where  they  ate 
things  as  fast  as  they  grew.  The  Ranger 
was  mighty  glad  when  he  saw  Fuzzy  after 
them. 

The  chums  would  each  select  a  hole  and 
see  which  could  dig  out  a  squirrel  the  quick- 
est, dog  or  bear.  But  Fuzzy  always  won, 
for  his  long  claws  were  much  better  digging 
implements  than  the  pup's. 


114  Fu%zy-Wu%% 

There  were  mice,  too,  to  be  found  under 
the  fallen  logs  farther  back  in  the  woods. 
These  mice  of  the  high  Sierras  were  red- 
backed  fellows  whose  coats  so  matched  the 
reddish  soil  that  they  were  hard  to  see,  even 
when  they  sat  right  out  in  plain  sight. 
Fuzzy  depended  more  on  his  nose  than  his 
eyes  when  he  followed  their  run-ways 
around  the  stumps  and  rocks  that  hid  their 
homes. 

Sometimes  he  would  find  a  whole  mossy 
nestful  of  them  in  some  hollow  stump  or 
under  a  rock.  Then  the  young  mice,  if  they 
were  old  enough  to  run,  would  race  in  all  di- 
rections, and  Fuzzy-Wuzz  could  only  turn 
around  and  around,  wondering  which  one 
to  chase  first,  while  Wiggledy  barked  and 
hopped  about  in  wild  excitement. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

MOTHER  BROWN"  BEAR  AND  THE  BULL 

FUZZY-WUZZ  had  grown  by  now  to  be 
as  fine  a  yearling  brown  bear  as  you 
will  find  in  the  Sierras. 

The  quaking  aspens  along  the  creek  were 
beginning  to  turn  scarlet  when  he  yielded 
to  a  restless  feeling  that  often  came,  and 
started  on  a  journey  that  took  him  back  over 
the  way  the  Ranger  had  come  the  year  be- 
fore, when  Fuzzy  rode  on  top  of  the  burro's 
pack. 

When  at  last  he  came  to  the  rapids  where 
he  had  so  nearly  drowned,  something  about 
the  place  seemed  familiar.  As  if  repeating 
a  lesson  he  had  learned  when  he  was  very, 
very  young,  he  turned  and  walked  up  the 
glacier-smoothed  granite  slope  to  where  a 
giant  bowlder  blocked  the  mouth  of  the  den. 

115 


116  Fuzzy-Wuzx 

He  sniffed.  It  was  the  cave  in  which  he  had 
been  born. 

It  was  empty  now,  but  from  the  odor  of 
warm  fur  he  judged  that  it  had  not  been 
empty  more  than  a  few  minutes.  With  his 
nose  to  the  ground,  he  started  following  up 
the  trail  they  had  left,— a  trail  pungent  of 
warm  fur  to  his  understanding  nose. 

It  led  straight  to  a  patch  of  wild  goose- 
berry bushes,  and  from  there  to  a  flower- 
dotted  mountain  meadow  where  range  cat- 
tle browsed.  Fuzzy  hesitated.  He  never 
saw  a  range  cow  now  but  he  looked  for  the 
nearest  tree.  There  was  no  tree  anywhere 
near. 

Just  as  he  was  about  to  turn  back,  he 
Caught  a  glimpse  of  a  huge  furry  form 
that  he  knew  to  be  his  mother. 

Cautiously  he  approached.  Would  she  be 
glad  to  see  him,  after  so  long,  or  had  she 
given  him  up  for  drowned,  and  would  she 
chase  him  away  as  she  would  a  strange  cub  I 

He  came  a  little  nearer,— then  he  stared. 
Waddling  along  flat-footedly  behind  her 
were  two  wee  cubs,  brown  balls  of  fur  as 


Mother  Brown  Bear  and  the  Bull     117 

tiny  as  he  had  been  when  the  Ranger  found 
him. 

He  whimpered  joyously.  Just  then  a 
range  bull  turned,  caught  sight  of  the  wee 
cubs,  and  doubtless  taking  them  for  dogs, 
charged  them  with  lowered  horns. 

Mother  Brown  Bear  rose  to  her  great  hind 
feet  with  a  growl.  Then  seeing  that  the  bull 
still  came  on,  she  bounded  to  a  point  mid- 
way between  him  and  her  babies,  and  waited. 
The  next  instant  he  was  opposite  her. 

"With  one  twist  of  his  ugly  horns  he  could 
have  torn  her  half  in  two,  but  she  never  hesi- 
tated, not  where  the  safety  of  her  babies  was 
concerned.  She  would  have  died  fighting 
for  those  helpless  mites  if  need  be. 

With  one  sweep  of  her  great,  steel-strong 
fore  arm  she  delivered  a  blow  on  the  back 
of  his  neck.  It  felled  him  flat,  for  his  spine 
was  broken.  Such  is  the  strength  of  a  full 
grown  brown  bear.  Lucky  he  is  a  good 
natured  animal  when  no  one  molests 
him. 

Calling  gently  to  her  cub's  to  follow,  she 
now   hastened   back   to   the   den.     Fuzzy 


118  Fuzzy-Wusz 

stepped  into  view  as  she  neared  him,  whin- 
ing an  eager  greeting.  But  she  only  growled 
out  a  warning  not  to  come  near  her  babies. 
Fuzzy  thought  best  to  obey.  Slowly  he  wan- 
dered back  to  the  river,  then  on  home  to  the 
Ranger's  cabin. 

It  had  certainly  been  pretty  fine  to  have 
his  freedom,  but  he  was  always  mighty  glad 
to  come  back  to  the  children  and  the  good 
things  they  always  feasted  him  with. 

For  awhile  he  was  content  to  play  around 
with  the  pup.  One  day,  towards  sun-down, 
the  children  heard  an  unusual  commotion 
in  the  woods.  Wiggledy  was  barking 
madly,  while  Fuzzy-Wuzz  stood  on  his  hind 
legs  sniffing  at  something  that  hung  from  a 
limb. 

At  first  it  looked  like  a  great  leaf.  Then 
the  children  saw  that  the  leaf  had  a  mouse- 
like body  covered  with  red-brown  fur,  and 
the  face  of  a  big-eared  gnome.  It  was  a  bat, 
with  great,  leathery  wings.  She  hung  by 
the  edge  of  one  wing,  on  a  hooked-nail  that 
would  have  been  her  thumb  nail,  had  it  been 
her  arm  and  outstretched  fingers  that 
formed  the  ribs  of  her  wing. 


Mother  Brown  Bear  and  the  Bull     119 

There  she  hung,  in  the  full  glow  of  the  set- 
ting sun.  But  the  oddest  thing  about  her 
was  this.— Clinging  to  her  were  three  baby 
bats,  wee  things  that  she  was  nursing  as 
they  clung  to  her  teats. 

Presently  she  saw  a  moth  and  flew  after 
it,  snapping  her  teeth  in  it  hungrily  after  a 
short  chase.  And  when  she  flew,  she  carried 
the  babies  clinging  to  her,  just  as  they  had 
been  before.  (For  she  had  no  place  to  leave 
them  in  safety.) 

She  hung  herself  up  on  another  tree,  and 
once  more  began  watching  for  her  prey. 
The  children  tried  to  catch  her,  for  a  closer 
look  at  so  strange  a  creature,  and  finally  suc- 
ceeded in  cornering  her  in  an  angle  of  the 
barn.  The  boy,— who  knew  how  to  handle 
animals,— grabbed  her  by  the  scruff  of  the 
neck  where  she  could  not  reach  out  to  bite 
him. 

My,  how  furiously  she  squeaked!  How 
she  ground  her  teeth  and  struggled  to  turn 
her  head  and  get  a  nip  at  him !  But  he  held 
her  tight,  careful  neither  to  hurt  the  valiant 
little  mother  nor  to  get  hurt  himself,  while 
they  examined  her  funny,  big-eared,  almost 


120  Fuzzy -Wuzz 

human  face.    Then  they  let  her  go,  and  she 
disappeared  into  the  dusk. 

Fuzzy  was  disgusted  to  think  they  had 
not  given  her  to  him. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

PIKA  OF  THE  PEAKS 

ALL  that  summer  Fuzzy  wandered,  wan- 
dered everywhere  in  search  of  adven- 
ture. There  was  hardly  a  spot  within  miles 
of  the  Ranger's  cabin  that  he  had  not  ex- 
plored. For  he  was  looking  for  a  range  that 
he  could  call  his  own.  Sometimes  he  found 
an  inviting  bit  of  country,  but  some  other 
bear  had  already  made  his  home  on  it. 

One  mellow  day  that  autumn  he  climbed 
to  the  very  tree  line.  Coming  out  on  a  wind- 
swept height  where  the  only  trees  were  the 
twisted  junipers  whose  branches  clung  to 
the  ledge,  he  was  just  about  to  drink  at  a 
trickle  of  water  that  welled  out  of  a  crack  in 
the  rocks  when  he  heard  the  queerest  sound. 

It  sounded  like  a  giant  cricket,  "  cheep, 

cheep,  cheep,"  high-pitched  and  plaintive. 

He  looked  about  to  see  where  it  came  from, 

for  a  cricket  would  make  fine  eating. 
121 


122  Fuzzy-Wuzz 

First  the  sound  seemed  to  come  from  be- 
hind him,  then  from  the  side ;  then  it  sounded 
for  all  the  world  as  if  it  must  be  in  the  rocks 
around  on  the  other  side.  Fuzzy  was  mys- 
tified. 

Like  a  gray  shadow,  something  glided  to 
the  top  of  a  stone  not  far  away.  It  looked 
like  a  small  rabbit,  except  that  it  had  big, 
round  ears  rimmed  with  white.  It  was  a 
pika. 

The  little  bear  had  never  seen  a  pika.  He 
knew  nothing  of  its  ways.  That  is  why  he 
made  a  dash  for  this  one.  Had  he  known, 
he  might  have  saved  himself  a  lot  of  trou- 
ble. For  no  sooner  had  he  moved  than  the 
little  creature  had  disappeared  from  the 
stone.  What  had  become  of  it  he  could  not 
imagine. 

Again  came  that  long-drawn  cricket 
sound,  echoing  from  somewhere  underneath 
the  rocks.  Madly  he  started  digging  into 
the  slide-rock,  near  where  the  bunny-like 
creature  had  disappeared.  He  might  as 
well  have  tried  to  dig  a  hole  through  the 
mountain  for  all  the  results  he  got.  The 
pika  was  not  there. 


Pika  of  the  Peaks  123 

Pausing  to  get  his  breath  and  cool  off,  he 
suddenly  espied,  sitting  calmly  watching 
him,  the  same  gray  shadow  on  the  same  gray 
stone. 

This  time  he  made  an  even  swifter  dash, 
but  again  the  pika  was  not  there.  When 
Fuzzy  became  quite  worn  out,  and  had 
curled  up  in  a  furry  ball  to  take  a  nap,  the 
little  dweller  of  the  mountain  peaks  went 
calmly  to  work  getting  in  his  winter  food 
supply. 

Nibbling  through  the  stems  of  as  many 
flowers  and  grasses  as  he  could  carry  in  his 
mouth,  he  would  lay  the  little  bundle  neatly 
on  a  rock  in  the  sunshine  and  spread  it  out 
to  dry.  After  awhile,  when  the  sun  no 
longer  shone  on  those  rocks,  he  carried  his 
hay  to  one  where  it  did. 

That  way,  he  worked  steadily  on,  all  alone 
on  the  mountain  top.  Soon,  he  knew,  would 
come  the  biting  cold  and  the  banking  snow, 
and  he  would  need  enough  hay  to  keep  him 
fat  and  warm  in  his  den  in  the  rocks. 

Once  a  hawk  spied  him  out  as  he  worked, 
and  made  a  swoop  for  him.  Yesterday  it  had 
been  a  lion,  the  day  before  coyotes.    But 


124  Fuzzy~Wuz% 

Pika  only  slipped  in  between  two  rocks 
where  nothing  could  get  at  him,  and  waited 
till  the  danger  was  gone. 

When  at  last  the  sun  grew  cool  and  the 
little  bear  awoke,  and  stretched,  Pika  was 
sitting  watching  him  like  a  gray  shadow  on 
a  gray  rock,  but  so  still  he  sat,  and  so  si- 
lently, that  Fuzzy- Wuzz  never  even  dreamed 
how  near  he  was,  but  went  shambling  off 
down  the  mountain  side  in  the  gathering 
dusk,  while  Pika  once  more  sang  his  cricket 
song. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

FUZZY  AND  THE  WEASEL 

OF  all  the  curious  furry  folk  that  Fuzzy- 
saw  that  summer,  the  weasel  was  the 
most  curious  looking  little  beast. 

At  first  glimpse  he  thought  it  was  a  black 
snake  that  went  gliding  through  the  scarlet 
fire-weed.  The  long,  humped  body  with  its 
flat,  almost  earless  head  and  long  neck 
ended  in  a  tail  nearly  as  long.  Behind  the 
pointed  nose,  the  blood-thirsty  villain's  red 
eyes  glowed  cruelly. 

The  weasel  was  after  a  mouse,  when  the 
little  bear  first  saw  him,  and  so  slim  was  he 
that  he  could  follow  that  unhappy  victim 
straight  down  into  his  hole.  He  emerged  in 
two  minutes  licking  his  bloody  jaws,  for  he 
had  not  eaten  the  whole  mouse,  but  only 
quenched  his  thirst,  as  is  the  way  with 


126  Fuz%y-Wu%% 

Chuck  and  Chipper,  and  indeed  the  whole 
chipmunk  horde,  had  hidden  in  their  fur- 
thest dens  at  first  glimpse  of  the  blood- 
sucker. Nor  was  that  all:  each  was  pre- 
pared to  flee  for  his  life  through  his  emer- 
gency exit,  should  the  killer  start  down  their 
front  entryway. 

The  clumsy-looking  ground  squirrels  de- 
veloped a  speed  of  which  Fuzzy  had  not  sup- 
posed them  capable,  as  the  dark,  snaky  form 
went  twisting  and  turning  through  the  un- 
der-growth  with  his  nose  to  the  patch-work 
of  their  trails.  One  old  fellow  took  refuge 
in  a  stone  pile,  but  the  weasel  squirmed  his 
way  after  him,  through  every  chink  and 
crevice,  till  Fuzzy  heard  his  victim  utter  his 
last  unhappy  squeal. 

But  did  that  stop  the  killer  %  Merely  tast- 
ing the  warm  blood,  the  weasel  left  his  catch 
uneaten  and  started  after  another.  Now 
most  of  the  wild  folk  who  kill  at  all,  kill  be- 
cause they  must  eat.  But  the  weasel  is  dif- 
ferent :  he  kills  for  the  love  of  killing.  He 
is  the  villain  of  the  play.  No  mouse  or  chip- 
munk whose  trail  he  starts  to  follow  ever 
gets  away  from  him. 


Fuzzy  and  the  Weasel  127 

Now  there  was  a  big  rabbit  that  Fuzzy 
had  chased  off  and  on  all  summer,  but  al- 
ways the  little  animal  flapped  its  ears  sauc- 
ily and  got  away.  It  was  not  afraid  of 
Fuzzy,  and  could  easily  outrun  him.  The 
rabbit  had  been  eating  every  green  thing 
that  came  up  in  the  Banger's  garden,  and 
Fuzzy  had  felt  it  his  duty  to  rid  the  place 
of  the  fellow.  Besides,  though  mostly  a  veg- 
etarian, he  had  often  thought  that  rabbit 
would  be  good  eating. 

To-day  the  rabbit  was  just  settling  down 
to  demolish  a  head  of  the  Ranger's  lettuce 
when  the  weasel,  running  along  with  his  nose 
to  the  ground,  crossed  its  trail.  Sniffing 
eagerly  at  the  scent  of  warm  fur,  he  raced 
up  to  the  flap-eared  one. 

Now  a  rabbit  has  perfectly  good  hind  legs. 
If  its  courage  had  been  as  good,  no  weasel 
could  have  overtaken  it  in  a  race.  At  first 
this  particular  rabbit,  sniffing  the  air  for 
signs  of  an  enemy,  thought  it  was  only  the 
little  bear,  and  went  right  on  eating,  wag- 
gling its  ears  saucily. 

Then  it  saw  the  weasel.  With  one  great 
bound  it  was  leaping  away  through  the 


128  Fuzzy -Wuzz 

woods,  the  little  weasel  after  it,  but  losing 
ground. 

Then  the  foolish  rabbit  leapt  high  to  see 
where  its  enemy  was.  The  weasel  was 
sneaking  along  in  such  a  snake-like  manner 
that  at  first  it  couldn't  see  him,  so  the  foolish 
bunny  circled  back  to  make  sure. 

Now  the  weasel  was  just  on  the  point  of 
giving  up,  seeing  that  here  was  one  victim 
he  could  not  hope  to  overtake,  when  the  rab- 
bit suddenly  came  back,  saw  him  still  pur- 
suing, and  losing  heart,  squatted  down,  par- 
alyzed with  fear,  uttering  a  squeal  for 
mercy. 

Instantly  the  weasel  was  on  the  rabbit's 
back,  biting  the  cowardly  beggar  back  of 
the  ear,  where  it  killed  it  instantly.  But 
a  taste  of  the  hot  blood  and  the  weasel  was 
satisfied,  and  ran  away  to  chase  barn  rats. 

"Am  I  in  luck?"  Fuzzy  asked  himself, 
licking  his  jaws  hungrily. 

The  Banger  also  thought  himself  in  luck, 
for  inside  a  week  the  weasel  had  rid  the  barn 
of  rats,  and  betaken  himself  away  to  new 
hunting  grounds. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

WAPITI 

THE  little  bear  felt  more  and  more 
strongly  the  call  to  go  exploring.  So 
many  things  interested  him,  and  he  was  so 
apt  to  find  something  new  and  delicious  to 
eat.  Besides,  he  felt  it  would  soon  be  time 
to  hibernate  again,  and  now  that  he  was  get- 
ting so  large,  he  wanted  a  home  of  his  own, 
—some  rocky  den  where  he  could  be  entirely 
by  himself  when  he  felt  like  it. 

During  the  spring  and  summer  the  mule 
deer,  (Dapple 's  tribe,)  had  been  the  largest 
he  had  seen.  But  now  that  the  larches  had 
turned  old  gold,  he  sometimes  met  a  herd  of 
wapiti,  or  American  elk,  who  had  summered 
high  in  the  mountains,  in  the  stunted  forests 
of  timber-line  where  they  could  browse  on 
the  foliage  of  the  very  tree  tops  and  the  lush 
grass  of  the  high  alpine  meadows. 


130  Fuzzy-Wuzz 

At  the  approach  of  winter  they  came 
down  to  seek  the  shelter  of  the  valleys. 

Every  herd  had  its  patriarch,  a  huge  old 
bull  wapiti,  whose  wide  branching  antlers 
would  suddenly  appear  on  the  sky-line  while 
he  scanned  the  slopes.  Then  he  would  give 
the  signal  to  the  herd  of  cow  wapiti  and 
their  calves  who  were  under  his  protection, 
to  follow  to  the  feeding-grounds  he  had  se- 
lected. 

Fuzzy  was  afraid  to  come  too  near,  for  he 
had  disliked  horns  and  antlers  ever  since  his 
experience  with  the  range  cow  the  year  be- 
fore. But  his  curiosity  often  drew  him  to 
watch  these  strange  creatures  from  the  safe 
shelter  of  some  clump  of  brush. 

After  the  first  snow-fall,  the  wapiti  would 
paw  the  ground  bare  with  their  fore  hoofs 
till  they  could  get  at  the  mosses  underneath. 
At  this  time  the  herd  was  joined  by  several 
others,  and  at  night  they  always  slept  in  a 
circle,  the  bulls  on  the  outside,  the  cows 
next,  and  their  calves  in  the  very  middle. 
Fuzzy  wondered  and  wondered  why  they  did 
it,  till  one  night,  when  he  had  elected  to  sleep 
away  from  home. 


Wapiti  131 

It  was  starlight  in  the  open  spaces, 
shadowy  under  the  trees,  when  he  was 
awakened  by  a  peculiar  shiver  that  ran  along 
his  spine  and  made  the  fur  on  the  back  of 
his  neck  prickle.  This,  he  knew,  meant  dan- 
ger, though  at  first  he  could  not  see  what  it 
was  that  menaced  him.  Then,  suddenly,  he 
noticed  a  slinking,  almost  soundless  move- 
ment along  the  limb  of  a  tree  between  him 
and  the  wapiti  on  the  creek  bank. 

Slowly,  slowly  the  giant  cat,  a  mere  mov- 
ing shadow  in  his  tawny  coat  against  the 
shadows  that  didn't  move,  leapt  to  the 
ground  and  began  edging,  inch  by  inch, 
toward  the  sleeping  herd.  But  was  it  sleep- 
ing? Fuzzy  thought  he  saw  the  gleam  of 
several  pairs  of  eyes  against  their  moveless 
bulk. 

The  cat  was  edging  around  them  watching 
for  some  point  where  he  might  approach 
them  from  behind.  But  on  every  side  he 
was  faced  by  a  barricade  of  pronged  antlers 
that  could  have  pierced  him  through.  Fi- 
nally as  he  came  too  near,  the  bulls  arose 
and  stood  waiting— just  waiting  for  him  to 
come  closer.    But  at  that  the  lion  turned 


132  Fuzzy -Wuzz 

and  leapt  into  a  tree,  and  though  Fuzzy- 
watched  till  he  could  no  longer  keep  his  eyes 
open,  he  saw  no  movement  in  that  tree,  nor 
was  the  lion  in  the  tree  when  morning  came. 
Nor  was  the  herd  reduced  by  the  loss  of  so 
much  as  one  calf. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

DAPPLE  DISAPPEAES 

AS  her  second  summer  came  to  an  end, 
Dapple  was  seen  to  be  more  and  more 
vain.  Every  day  she  licked  her  fur  till  it 
shone.  She  had  even  made  friends  with  a 
young  cow  of  almost  equal  vanity,  who  did 
her  the  service  of  washing  her  neck  where 
she  could  not  reach  it,  a  service  she  returned 
in  kind. 

Then  one  day  she  disappeared.  The 
children  were  mystified,  but  Fuzzy  could 
have  told  them  what  had  become  of  her. 

His  wanderings  had  often  taken  him  into 
the  haunts  of  the  mule  deer.  Not  that  he 
ever  got  very  near  them.  Even  had  he 
trusted  the  antlers  of  the  bucks  he  saw  sum- 
mering together  in  the  high  country,— they 
had  prongs  even  before  the  tall  branching 
antlers  came  in  September,— he  could  not 

133 


134  Fuzzy-Wuzz 

have  escaped  observation,  so  keen  were  both 
their  eyes  and  their  ears. 

Then  in  the  wooded  valleys  he  had  watched 
the  blacktail  does  with  their  dappled  fawns. 

Seeing  in  the  little  fellows  something  so 
like  what  Dapple  had  been  the  year  before, 
he  sometimes  tried  to  play  tag  with  them, 
but  no  sooner  would  he  make  a  movement 
toward  them  than  off  they  would  bound  in 
great  leaps  that  took  them  clear  over  the 
tops  of  the  bushes,  and  in  two  seconds  they 
were  clear  out  of  sight,  doe  and  fawns  to- 
gether. 

Not  even  when  they  slept  could  he  sur- 
prise them,  for  they  slept  with  all  four  feet 
under  them,  and  at  the  slightest  sound,  crack 
would  go  the  brush  about  them,  as  they  rose 
into  the  air,  then  off  they  would  bounce,  like 
so  many  rubber  balls,  thud,  thud,  thud! 

It  became  a  game  that  Fuzzy  played  with 
himself,  to  try  to  catch  them  unawares,  but 
let  him  approach  never  so  softly,  with  the 
wind  blowing  his  scent  in  entirely  the  other 
direction,  their  big  ears  were  sure  to  hear 
him,  though  they  had  been  sound  asleep. 

Yes,  sir,  Fuzzy  could  have  told  the  chil- 


Dapple  Disappears  135 

dren  what  had  become  of  Dapple.  But  he 
didn't,  and  they  mourned  her  as  lost,  finally- 
deciding  that  she  must  have  fallen  victim  to 
a  mountain  lion. 

He  had  seen  the  bucks  come  down  from 
the  high  country  as  autumn  crisped  the  air, 
their  double  branched  antlers  gleaming 
proudly.  He  had  watched  them  battling  on 
the  lake  shore  o'  moonlight  nights,  their 
antlers  clashing  angrily  at  one  another, 
while  the  does— and  Dapple— watched  them 
from  safe  covert. 

And  before  ever  he  began  his  winter's 
sleep  he  had  seen  them  gather  into  herds, 
does  and  bucks  together,— and  Dapple  with 
them,— as  many  as  he  had  toes  and  fingers 
put  together,  in  a  sheltered  canyon  where 
they  could  winter. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 


AS  winter  approached,  and  Fuzzy  wan- 
dered farther  and  farther  afield,  the 
bullfrogs  wriggled  deep  into  the  mud  to 
sleep  the  white  months  away,  the  trout  he 
had  so  often  caught  sought  the  deepest 
water  they  could  find,  in  the  very  bottom  of 
the  ice-covered  lake,  the  birds  flew  further 
south,  the  chipmunks  retired  to  the  depths 
of  their  well-stocked  burrows,  the  pine 
squirrels  took  to  their  hollow  trees  except 
when  the  sun  shone  warmest,  and  the  mice 
crept  so  deep  into  the  frozen  ground  that 
Fuzzy  could  not  dig  them  out. 

The  children  still  had  the  owl  and  the 
canary,  and  one  day  they  discovered  Ring- 
tail in  the  haymow  with  three  kittens,  but 
Wiggledy,  now  a  well-grown  pup,  was  their 


Dapple' s  Secret  137 

chief  comrade,  for  Fuzzy- Wuzz  had  also  dis- 
appeared. 

He  had  not  chosen  the  haymow  this  time 
in  which  to  sleep  the  winter  away,  for  he  had 
found  the  most  delightful  den  in  the  rocks,— 
a  regular  cave,  which  he  had  lined  with  arm- 
fuls  of  dry  pine  needles,  till  it  was  as  snug 
and  warm  as  anything  he  could  desire. 
Moreover,  he  could  hide  away  in  it  and  no 
one  could  disturb  him. 

Spring  came,  setting  the  streams  to  froth- 
ing over  their  bowlder-strewn  beds.  The 
banks  of  the  quieter  pools  echoed  to  the 
song  of  the  re-awakened  bullfrogs.  Chip- 
munks chattered  through  the  tree-tops, 
birds  returned,  filling  the  air  with  their  love 
songs,  and  mice  scuttled  through  the  new 
green  grass.  But  no  Fuzzy  came  scratching 
at  the  cabin  door,  and  no  Dapple  came  to 
the  children's  call. 

Then  one  early  morning  the  boy,  now  a 
well-grown  lad  of  twelve,  was  out  milking 
the  cows  when  a  pale,  tawny  form  in  the 
edge  of  the  woodland  attracted  his  eye.  It 
was  a  doe,  and  he  held  his  breath  for  a  good 
look  at  her.    She  did  not  move.    For  long 


138  Fuzzy-Wuzz 

minutes  he  stared  at  the  mild-eyed  creature, 
fearing  if  he  moved,  she  would  go  bounding 
away.  Then— could  his  eyes  deceive  him  t — 
she  came  prancing  straight  toward  him. 

' '  Dapple ! ' '  he  called  j  oyously.  '  i  Dapple ! 
Can  it  really  be  you  ? ' '  And  at  the  sound  of 
his  voice,  she  came  to  his  outstretched  hand 
and  licked  it. 

Then  a  sharp  sound  of  snapping  twigs  in 
the  underbrush  behind  her  sent  her  bound- 
ing back.  The  boy  stared  after  her.  There, 
frightened  to  death  at  their  close  approach 
to  human  kind,  and  ready  to  leap  away  at 
the  slightest  danger,  stood  two  tiny  spotted 
fawns,  as  like  what  Dapple  herself  had  been 
as  anything  that  could  be  imagined, 

A  moment  more  they  stood  hesitant,  then 
as  the  boy  took  one  step  nearer,  Dapple 
went  bouncing  back  into  the  thick  woods,  the 
fawns  following. 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

OLD  FEIENDS 

THE  children  had  climbed  high  that  day 
with  their  berry  pails. 

Wiggledy  had  gone  bounding  on  ahead, 
threatening  every  squirrel  and  chipmunk 
with  the  most  ferocious  barks.  Suddenly  he 
began  sniffing  at  the  ground  in  a  way  that  at- 
tracted the  children's  curiosity,  then  went 
bounding  on*  with  joyful  yelps. 

"What  can  it  beV-'  wondered  the  little 
girl.  "He  never  ran  away  and  left  us  like 
that  before." 

"Let's  go  along  and  find  out,3'  proposed 
the  boy. 

They  had  to  run  to  keep  the  dog  in  sight. 
Sometimes  he  would  stop  and  peer  into  the 
branches  of  a  tree,  then  sniff  about  under- 
neath. Then  off  he  would  race  again,  nose 
to  the  ground,  uttering  happy  yelps  and 
whimpers. 

139 


140  Fuzzy <-Wuzz 

The  way  he  led  them  zig-zagged  this  way 
and  that,  but  always  it  took  them  higher. 
At  last  they  found  themselves  away  up  on 
the  mountain  side  almost  to  timber  line. 
Then  Wiggledy  disappeared  in  a  berry  patch 
too  thorny  for  them  to  follow. 

As  they  stood  waiting  and  calling  for  him 
to  come  back,  and  filling  their  pails  from  the 
berries  within  reach,  the  little  girl  began 
staring  at  the  rocks  further  up.  When  the 
boy  glimpsed  her  frightened  eyes  he,  too, 
stared  in  the  direction  she  was  gazing. 

From  behind  a  mammoth  bowlder  peered 
a  huge  brown  head,  with  a  long  yellowish 
snout. 

Slowly  a  huge,  furry  form  came  lumber- 
ing forth,  walking  awkwardly  flat-footed, 
wagging  its  head  from  side  to  side.  It  was 
headed  straight  toward  them. 

Now  it  arose  to  its  full  height,  sniffing  the 
breeze  and  peering  apparently  right  at  them 
with  its  near-sighted  little  eyes.  Then  down 
on  all  fours  again  went  the  shaggy  beast.  It 
was  a  brown  bear,— the  largest  they  had  ever 
seen. 


Old  Friends  141 

The  children  didn't  know  which  way  to 
turn.  Of  course  they  knew,  as  their  father 
had  often  told  them,  that  a  brown  bear  will 
not  harm  human  kind,  unless  wounded  or 
cornered  or  trying  to  defend  its  young. 
But  how  could  they  be  sure  this  bear  had 
not  been  wounded,  or  had  no  cubs  somewhere 
hidden  among  the  rocks  and  thought  they 
were  after  them! 

The  little  .girl  was  in  for  running,  but  the 
boy  sternly  bade  her  stay  still  and  show  no 
fear.  Wiggledy  was  still  racing  around  in 
the  berry  patch  with  his  nose  to  the  ground. 
Just  then  the  wind  veered.  With  a  frantic 
yelp  the  dog  went  flying  straight  toward  the 
bear. 

"Wiggledy!  Come  back!"  called  the 
boy,  frightened  lest  the  bear  would  kill  him. 
But  the  dog  raced  on. 

Then  something  happened  that  left  them 
speechless  with  amazement.  The  little  dog 
and  the  big  bear  began  romping  together 
just  as  had  the  pup  and  the  yearling  cub  the 
year  before. 

"It   IS   Fuzzy-Wuzz!"   cried  the   boy. 


142  Fuzzy-Wuzz 

"Come  here,  you  old  rascal  you,"  and  he 
fished  a  hunk  of  gingerbread  from  his  pocket 
and  strode  up  to  the  bear. 

The  bear  shambled  toward  him  eagerly, 
and  took  the  tid-bit  from  his  hand.  It  was 
Fuzzy-Wuzz,  his  old  friends  not  forgotten, 
though  he  had  taken  to  the  wild  where  he 
belonged. 


THE  END 


